


Accidentally in Love

by NerdQueen13



Series: America's Sweethearts [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Lots of adventures, Maybe kinda sorta cheesy, Steve Rogers gets the hug he deserves, Women Being Awesome, chaotic best friends in addition to romance, just cute and romantic I guess, main character gets powers, shenanigans all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 37,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdQueen13/pseuds/NerdQueen13
Summary: Meg Levesque feels absolutely ordinary...until the accident that brings her into the Avengers' orbit. There, she'll develop friendships beyond what she could've imagined, discover a world she never knew, and maybe even fall in love with the legendary Captain America....
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Series: America's Sweethearts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727296
Kudos: 7





	1. Explosions are a Girl's Worst Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This entire premise exists in a version of the MCU where Infinity War never took place. Thanos was defeated very early on and couldn't go on his psychotic evil rampage of doom, so the Avengers are living a pretty normal life at the beginning of 2019. None of our favorite characters (Loki, Natasha, Gamora, etc., and anyone snapped) have died.

The camera clicks again, causing the lights around me to flash brightly and leave a brilliant glare burned across my retinas.  
  
“Perfect, Meg!” the photographer’s assistant cries. She smiles at me across the bright white studio. “Now give us some more sass!”  
  
I shift my pose and exaggerate the pout of my lips, looking straight at the camera. I bet this makes the front cover of next week’s issue, I think to myself as the photographer snaps more photos of me modeling yet another trendy new outfit.  
  
“Okay, take five, people!” the photographer shouts grumpily, standing from his crouched position behind the camera. His assistant rushes over to me, squealing.  
“You look great in those photos, Meg!” she exclaims gleefully.  
  
“Thanks, Andrea,” I reply with a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. Andrea, though a few years older than me, is probably my closest friend in the business. Most of the other models are sweet enough, but air-headed. Andrea just gets me...I guess.  
  
She still seems eager to tell me something. “I think-- I think Rob’s going to give you a promotion,” Andrea whispers in a breathlessly excited voice, talking about the photographer who just left the room.  
  
“Really? What can a model get promoted to?” I ask skeptically. “Am I competing for your job now?”  
  
Rob reappears as we both glance toward the door, limping slightly as he approaches. He takes a route away from his tripod, heading toward us instead.  
  
“Megan,” Rob begins in his deep growl.  
  
“Hey, Rob,” I say, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. “What’s up?”  
  
The man hesitates for just a second. “I’m moving you to swimwear.”  
  
“What?” I exclaim, unable to hide my shock. Andrea’s face mirrors my own. “But--”  
  
“Look, don’t get me wrong, I like what you’ve done so far, but I think you should try modeling swimwear for a change. Freshen things up and whatnot.”  
  
“But the director said I wouldn’t have to be a swimsuit model when I came on. I’m better suited for other clothes, and I like them better anyway. I’m not all that comfortable with showing off that much of myself to the world.”  
  
“It’s been three years. I think it’s worth a try.”  
  
“Rob, no. I said no.”  
  
“Sweetheart, go change clothes. If you don’t listen, I’ll have to fi--”  
  
That’s the breaking point for me. “Fire me? Fine! If you can’t respect me, then I quit!” I throw down my hands and storm out of the room. Once in the hall, I open the first door I find: the salon and spa (or the spalon, as we like to call it).  
  
The room is painted a bright bluish-green. The walls on either side of me are lined with vanities, all of which are covered in hair products, cosmetics, lotions, creams, youth-restoring solutions, hair dyes in a multitude of natural colors, and perfumes. It’s very bright, almost blinding, with every mirror’s lights working. The opposite end of the room boasts a hot tub--the “spa” part. Whoop-de-doo. I spot it and instantaneously decide how to spend the rest of my last workday here.  
  
The water is warm and soothing on my skin. It laps gently against the edge of the tub, splashing tiny droplets onto my face. Finally calm again, I close my eyes and sink deeper into the heated pool, resting my head against the rim.  
  
I’m suddenly jarred from my peaceful bliss when the sound of an explosion breaks the silence. I sit up and scan the walls, checking for any damage to the building. I don’t see anything. Then another explosion goes off. They don’t stop. They keep becoming louder and more frequent, interspersed with the sounds of machinery whirring, engines zooming, tires squealing, civilians screaming, voices shouting, and metal clashing. There’s no way that’s just everyday New York out there.  
  
Just as I search for my clothes and a towel, a missile the size of two cars crashes through the door. It crumbles the wall to dust, tearing apart the floor, and barely stops before the hot tub. Debris and beauty products alike are pushed into the tub, forming layers on top of me. I sink back into the tub, hoping to discover how to free my legs from the debilitating weight on top of them, when a chunk of ceiling falls down on top of me and everything goes black.  
  
I flail my arms around and clear a hole above me for light within a few seconds. Scrabbling and kicking around, I manage to free myself from the crushing mass and scramble out of the tub into the grayish haze. I pull my clothes, shoes, and coat on hurriedly over my swimsuit, then turn to face one of the mirrors on the undamaged wall and huff. The building’s been damaged, so surely there’s at least one news crew out there in the snow. I don’t want to talk to them. They’ll probably eventually find some way to force the fact that I’m now jobless out of me.  
  
I wish I could just turn into somebody else, somebody inconspicuous, I think dejectedly. My body suddenly feels warm for a moment, and then I look into the mirror and scream. My reflection is not the curly brown hair, freckly face, and bright blue eyes of Megan Levesque anymore, but now an unfamiliar one: lightly tanned skin; long, wavy black hair; brilliant green eyes. The girl in the mirror looks like she should be a model. Frightened, I immediately start wishing I had never wished for that, and to my surprise, my face morphs back into my own.  
  
I shake my head and pick up my stuff, heading for the exit. It was obviously just an illusion. Maybe I hit my head too hard. I open the door, stick my head out to check if the coast is clear, and sidle out the door and toward the spinning glass door at the front. As I approach the spinning door, I notice a newswoman not far from the door, one of several being filmed at the moment. Called it, I say to myself. She’s probably expecting someone from the agency.  
  
I give up on convincing myself that I imagined it, and I wish (against my better judgment) to transform again into that other girl from the mirror. I feel my limbs warm for a second and glance down at tan fingers decorated with simple rings. Success. I adjust the strap of my purse and breeze through the door, walking past the crowd of newscasters.  
“Miss! Miss!” one shouts, though I look away. “Can you tell me about--”  
  
“I don’t know, sorry, wrong building, my fault,” I snap quickly in a light, unknown accent. The lady shies away immediately, taken aback, and I continue on through the chilly street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading; I hope you'll continue with my story! I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! :)


	2. I Think Superhero Judgment is Scarier than Normal People's Judgment

I throw my stuff onto the tiny bed and pull my computer off the dresser. Just to be sure, I check my reflection to make certain that I’m myself again. Once I’ve been reassured, I open up my laptop to Google and start searching. Shape-shifting. Turning into someone else. Morphing reflections. Those are only the least weird ones. I even start looking into some superhero backstories for any leads.  
  
A loud knock on my window makes me jump, and I immediately rush over and open it. “Hello?” I cry, sticking my head out. Something whooshes past my head into the apartment, so I turn around, afraid that someone’s standing there, threatening me.  
  
“Hey,” Spider-Man says from across my bedroom. I assume he’s smiling, but he pulls his mask off to show me that he is. “You’re Meg, right?”  
  
“Yeah...” I answer slowly and cautiously, unsure of how to respond to the kid.  
  
“I’m Peter, or, I guess you already figured out, Spider-Man,” he says nervously. “Wait, do I know you?”  
  
I stare at him for a second. “You do look familiar…. I think we went to the same school! I graduated three years ago. I was pretty advanced, so I already finished college.”  
  
“I’m a freshman now,” he says with a smile. “In college. Or, you know, I will be when school starts.”  
  
I laugh. “Did you need something, Spider-Man?” I ask.  
  
“Oh, yeah!” Peter squeaks excitedly, making me laugh again. “The Avengers heard about what happened today. My drone and I saw you shape-shift as you were leaving, and they want you to come to the facility for an evaluation meeting.”  
  
“What? Seriously? You’re kidding me, right, Peter?”  
  
He laughs. “Nope!”  
  
I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that a bunch of superheroes want me to join their team?”  
  
“You’ve got brains--at least, I assume, since you finished college a year early--and new powers. We could use someone like you,” he says. “Please, Meg?”  
  
I try to scowl at him, nervously fingering the childhood locket hanging around my neck, but he’s like a puppy. I can’t stay mad and cynical with him. “Fine, but I am not flying across the rooftops of New York to your mystery base. Let’s get a cab.”  
  
“Or we could take the helicopter,” Peter replies, eyeing the ceiling. I groan.  
  
\---  
  
“The whole point was to avoid heights,” I grumble at Peter as we are escorted into Avengers Tower.  
  
“No, the whole point was to get here fast so Mr. Stark wouldn’t yell at me,” he counters. “You could’ve mentioned that you were afraid of heights if it was that important.”  
  
“I thought it was obvious. That’s how it always goes in action movies.”  
  
“And when those people don’t speak up, they do the scary thing,” he replies smugly.  
  
We reach the doors to the room where we’re meeting the rest of the Avengers. I push open one of the translucent glass panels and slide inside, Peter right behind me.  
  
“Ah, Miss Levesque!” Tony Stark greets me jovially from the other side of the long wooden table. At least, he sounds happy. Whatever. “Mr. Parker got you here after all!”  
  
“Hello, Mr. Stark,” I say politely, standing awkwardly in a larger space between two of the chairs that’s clearly meant to be my podium, watching Peter take his seat.  
  
“I assume you know everyone here? I’ll refresh you, just in case. James Rhodes, or Rhodey, War Machine; Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow; Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier or the White Wolf; Clint Barton, Hawkeye; Vision; Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch; Dr. Bruce Banner, the Hulk; Thor; you’ve already met Peter Parker, Spider-Man; Sam Wilson, Falcon; Steve Rogers, Captain America; and certainly you know who I am,” Tony finishes, gesturing to each person around the table in turn. “Oh, and that hologram over there is SHIELD Director Nick Fury and Agent Maria Hill.” I’m feeling starstruck. I look to each one he points out in the circle, but my eyes linger on Steve just a bit longer than the others. I force myself to look away as Natasha speaks up.  
  
“Meg, tell us about yourself,” she says authoritatively. I catch several doubtful looks from around the table and try to ignore them. It’s hard.  
  
“Don’t you already know everything about me from his extensive profiling database?” I demand incredulously, waving one hand toward Tony and forcing a laugh. “He probably found me through facial recognition from Peter’s video.”  
  
“Let’s check that he’s right,” Natasha answers with a knowing smirk. Expecting nothing extraordinary or worthwhile? Or just the opposite?  
  
I find myself playing with my necklace again as I try to find the words. “Um, well… I’ve always lived in New York. I went to the same high school as Peter did, but the summer before my senior year, I found out about this program where you could do high school and college at the same time. It was actually a Stark program for a select few,” I add, looking at Tony. “Between high school and college, I studied a lot of stuff: sciences, languages, journalism, arts and design, advertising, culinary arts, history, theatre…all cool subjects. Ended up leaving college with a degree in history and English, but I was really uncertain about things and wanted to explore everything. When I graduated from high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do, and I felt confused and out of place because of that, so I took the first job I could find--modeling for a little-known magazine downtown to help pay for my tuition and everything, so that’s pretty much how I ended up here.”  
  
“So what exactly can you do?” Thor asked, leaning forward in intrigue. He, at least, doesn’t seem to take the pessimistic view on my potential joining.  
  
“Essentially, I can shape-shift. Sorta like Mystique,” I state. Thor’s eyes light up in excitement, and I have to calm him down. “I’m not Loki, Thor. I’m sorry. Anyway, I guess I just have to think that I want to become someone else, and it happens. I don’t know if or how I can control it.”  
  
The crowd around the table nods, some whispering to each other, others jotting down quick notes. I think Thor whispers his brother’s name, but I’m too nervous to ask.  
  
“How did you get these powers?” Steve asks, sending my stomach into flips and setting my heart racing. I can’t read his expression, but his dreamy blue eyes bore intensely into mine.  
  
“Uh…” I stall, suddenly forgetting my train of thought. “I was in the hot tub in the spa, and a missile thing carved out a huge chunk of the building and pushed a bunch of beauty products into the water, so that’s all I’ve got. It was like the lucky shot that perfectly hit the reactor in the Death Star to blow it up.” I shrug to emphasize how lost I am.  
  
Peter jumps up, ecstatic. “Another Star Wars nerd? Yes!”  
  
I grin at him. “Did you guys cause that? Fighting aliens or supervillains or something?” The assembly nods in unison.  
  
Bruce suddenly jumps from his seat, apparently having an epiphany. “The radiation from the rocket must have amplified the transformative power of the products and chemicals and affected your system!”  
  
“...could it also affect aging?” I ask inquisitively, thinking of the stories I’ve read about legendary people that don’t age. Like Captain America. Or Thor. Or Nicolas Flamel. Two of the three are blinking calmly across the table at me, giving me confidence in my chances.  
  
“That depends. I’d have to run some tests,” he answers.  
  
“I wonder if I could do smaller-scale transformations as opposed to my whole body,” I mumble to myself.  
  
“Can we get back to the point?” Rhodey asks impatiently.  
  
Tony claps his hands. “Rhodey’s right. Show us your moves.”  
  
“Okay,” I stutter nervously. Pressure, much? I spot Peter across the room, shut my eyes on his reassuring smile, and think, Okay brain, this is it. The big moment. I really need to turn into Peter Parker right now. Please?  
  
The warmth spreads over my body for a fraction of a second, then all the Avengers gasp. Thor and Sam rapidly whip their heads back and forth between the real Peter and me.  
  
“Impressive,” Fury muses from the hologram projector. “She could be a useful addition to the team.”  
  
“Who votes we take her?” Bucky shouts from the end of the table.  
  
Twelve hands rise into the air and two holographic heads nod in unison.  
  
“It’s settled, then,” Wanda says, smiling at me. “If, of course, you want to join us.”  
  
“Are you kidding? I’d love to!”  
  
“Then who’s training her?” Agent Hill asks.  
  
Several of them immediately start mumbling excuses about why they can’t. “I’d love to, but I don’t think she’d take too well to my style on her first day,” Natasha teases, prompting me to smile a little bit. Maybe she isn’t so skeptical towards me after all.  
  
“Steve?” Tony asks cautiously. “Hand-to-hand combat’s your specialty. Can you train Meg to fight?”  
  
“Yeah, sure I can,” he answers, winking at me. My stomach clenches weirdly again.  
  
“Meeting adjourned, then,” Tony says to the group, switching off the projection. “Go do whatever until dinner.”  
  
Everyone begins to stand and leave. Steve’s already somehow behind me, his hand hovering near my shoulder, but Peter suddenly remembers something. “Wait!” he shouts, hands out, jumping up. “Meg needs a super name, guys!”  
  
Everyone freezes and thinks. The room is quiet for several minutes. “What about…Mirage?” I squeak.  
  
The small room fills with murmurs of approval. “I like it,” Sam says loudly.  
  
“A nice choice,” Vision agrees with a nod.  
  
Tony raises an eyebrow appraisingly. “Simple...mysterious...alluring.” He nods in approval and looks away again.  
  
“Costume…?” I trail off, unsure.  
  
“I’m on it!” Peter says ecstatically.  
  
“Need some help?” Wanda chimes in, moving toward him.  
  
“We’re actually done now, right? Yes, we are. We can discuss any other issues over dinner.” Tony pushes people along toward the door.  
  
“Are you ready to start training right now?” Steve asks, looking intently into my face.  
  
“Sure,” I say, my voice quivering in the singular syllable.  
  
He nods and leads me out the door. I follow him through several long hallways, up and down stairs and elevators, and finally through the door to the Avengers’ gym.


	3. Training with Captain America Has Its Perks

“Welcome to the training room,” Steve says, gesturing dramatically around the facility. “I think there should be some spare workout clothes in there.” He points to a door. “We didn’t raid your house or anything to prepare for you, although some of them wanted to. You can go get your stuff tomorrow, and somebody’ll help you figure out your apartment and rent situation. We weren’t going to force you to stay. You do want to stay, right?” His gaze is so intensely fixated on mine that I forget to breathe for a second.  
  
“Yeah, of course!” I answer loudly, breaking the spell. “Why wouldn’t I?”  
  
He hefts a punching bag off the floor and hangs it on the chain dangling from the ceiling. “Oh, you know, danger, battle, villains, and aliens aren’t everybody’s cup of tea,” he answers nonchalantly, biting back a smile. “I just didn’t want you sticking around because you felt like you had to.”  
  
I shake my head and back into the locker room, maintaining eye contact as long as possible before quickly changing into leggings and a sports bra (apparently no one around here except Steve wears a shirt to train, because I certainly don’t see any??) and lacing up my tennis shoes. I grab some wraps for my hands and stroll out, swiftly wrapping my palms and wrists in the strips of fabric as I walk.  
  
Steve looks over from the punching bag as the door slams behind me. I see his eyes widen just slightly before he controls himself again. I suppress a laugh and check my wraps as I make my way across the floor to him.  
  
“Up here,” I tease as I position myself next to him. He looks at me quizzically. “Come on. There was not a single shirt in that room.” He still looks confused. “I was watching your face when I came out here in this. I’m guessing you haven’t trained with Natasha and Wanda?”  
  
He chuckles and looks down at his fists. “No, that’s not-- You just…caught me off guard, that’s all.”  
  
“Oh.” Honestly, this is embarrassing. I thought he was looking at me...you know, like that. I feel like an idiot. “Sorry,” I reply, trying to bring back the edge of confidence to my voice.  
  
“Hey, it happens. Can’t be too careful in New York,” he answers, glancing over at me with concern.  
  
We stand in thought for a few seconds. Snapping out of my trance, I finally say, “What’s first, Cap?” I take in the punching bag again. “Boxing?”  
  
“I thought it would be a good place to start--just the basics. We’ll get to the flipping and evasive maneuvers later.” He’s trying very hard to fight a smile. “And honing your powers…but I might not be the right guy for that part. Let’s get started.”  
  
“Okay!” I answer, trying to work myself into a fighting stance while fighting a sense of anxiety. My body feels awkward and misplaced, but I don’t know what’s wrong. “I know the basics, but I haven’t done this in a while, so maybe that’s a good idea,” I explain apologetically.  
  
I feel him leave my side and move around to position himself behind me. He gently places a hand on my shoulder. “Straighten your back; you don’t want to fight hunched over.” I do as he says, immediately feeling less mistaken in my pose. “Bend your knees a little more. Don’t tuck your thumbs into your fists, even between punches, and be sure to look up at your target.” He moves to my right side now, checking how well I’ve followed his directions. “Much better.”


	4. If You Forget Your Own Birthday, Does it REALLY Count as a Surprise Party?

Within several weeks, I’ve moved on from punching the bag to actually sparring with Steve in the boxing ring. The progress is not as evident. No matter how many times he shouts “On your left!” or something like that to give me a heads up, I’m always just a little too slow to intercept him. This is going to take some practice.  
  
“Where’s that strong fighting spirit?” Steve half-jokes as he stands over me. He reaches out, and I grab his hand and stand up. “My number one piece of advice: always get back up when they knock you down. I know you can do this. Just focus on me. Take note of what I’m doing. Come on. You’ve got it.” That’s the problem, though. If I’m focused on him, I won’t be focused on him--on what he’s doing. I’m hopeless, but I don’t want to surrender this limited one-on-one time to get to know him, so I won’t say so.  
  
We position ourselves in the corners again, ready for another round. I shake out my limbs, trying to fully awaken my sleeping senses in order to prove myself. Steve lunges out at me, but I manage to block his punch. He rolls away, out of my sight, so I focus my other senses on finding him. I listen as he stands up and sidesteps, and right before he calls out, I whip my torso around and punch him with a hard uppercut to his stomach. I immediately twist back, but not before my eyes register that both of us are stunned by this. I’m almost certain that the expression on Steve’s face is the look I’ve been trying not to let mine slip into for days. He almost seems...awed.  
  
I shake my head to clear the nonsense out of it. Steve Rogers? No way. He wouldn’t be impressed by me. Maybe by my sudden improvement, but nothing more. “How’d I do, Cap?” I ask, whipping my ponytail around to face him as I tease, trying not to reveal how pleased I am with myself.  
  
“That was great, Meg,” Steve responds, high-fiving me. He straightens up, shaking his head and pulling his sweaty t-shirt off over his head. My breath catches in my throat, and I hiccup as I try to restart my lungs. “Let’s call it a day, shall we? I think we’re having a party tonight, so you might want some time to shower and change clothes.”  
  
I smile. “Sounds like a plan.” I turn away to pick up my water bottle, freezing in my tracks. “What’s the party for, Steve?”  
  
“Today is your birthday, isn’t it?” Steve asks as he unwraps his hands, his tone suspicious and slightly panicked.  
  
“Is it?” I drape a towel around my neck and toss my phone into the air, catching it effortlessly. “Oh my gosh, it is! Thanks for the reminder! I gotta go!”  
  
Without another word, I dash out of the gym and through the vertical maze of Avengers Tower. I skip the elevator and sprint up the stairs, too frantic to stand still. I unlock the door to my suite and race to the bathroom to turn on the shower, watching the steam fog up the mirror. I check the clock. Three. I’ve got time.  
  
Slower this time, I wander back into the hallway, searching for someone who can answer my burning question. I turn to look the other direction just as Wanda narrowly avoids bumping into me.  
  
“Sorry, Meg!” she exclaims shrilly, jumping backward and magically regaining her balance. “I didn’t hear you come up here!”  
  
“That’s surprising,” I answer in a humorous monotone. “I was sprinting, pounding, and huffing the whole way up from the basement.”  
  
Wanda’s face brightens. “How’s the training going?” she asks excitedly.  
  
“Pretty well, I guess. We’ve been doing more actual fighting lately, which I kind of suck at, but I’m getting better. I actually punched Steve in the gut today.”  
  
She claps her hands enthusiastically. “Nice work! Maybe we can spar soon!” I look at her, unconvinced. “Oh come on, I’ll go easy on you,” she giggles.  
  
“What time is the party?” I interject, trying obviously to change the subject.  
  
“Seven. Why?”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” The question comes out sadder than I mean it to.  
  
Wanda sighs. “It was soooort of supposed to be a surprise, but we thought you’d want to show up appropriately dressed and everything, and it was too much work to throw you off the trail, so we went with a short-notice party instead.”  
  
I nod as if that’s totally logical. “Okay. Thanks, Wanda. I think I’ll go shower now….” I trail off, pointing my thumb behind me at the door.  
  
“Oh, yeah, right!” she answers, startled. “Bye!” She grins at me and waves as she runs off.


	5. Superheroes are Either Prince Charmings or Heathens, There is No In-Between

Natasha sprays a coating of hairspray over my hair and looks at me in the mirror. “Hot,” she says seriously, winking and causing me to burst into laughter as she sets down the curling iron. “You ready?”  
  
I nod and hop off the stool, examining my perfectly curled hair and extraordinarily long eyelashes in the mirror. I don’t dare touch my face, fearing I’ll smudge the makeup. Old habits die hard, I guess.  
  
I stroll out into the bedroom, where my outfit--a strappy black tank and a sequined silver miniskirt paired with a long necklace and matching silver bracelets--is arranged on the fluffy bed. I turn around to check that the door is closed. It is, but there’s something sitting on the floor just inside of it. I silence my curiosity just long enough to change and slip on my strappy black block heels, but then I turn again, compelled by the mysterious thing.  
  
After finishing with cleaning up the products in the bathroom, Natasha sidles out and immediately catches me with my eyes on the foreign object. I reach out and snatch it off the plush carpet. It’s an envelope: small, square, and made of a tan, grainy paper.  
  
I open the thick, unsealed envelope and slide the contents out. I can feel Natasha’s eyes on me as I read.  
  
Dear Meg,  
  
I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now, but I’ve just been too afraid to. I realized after training with you several times that I really couldn’t put it off much longer, but I knew I would never get the words out to your face, so I wrote you this note.  
  
I can’t stop thinking about you, Meg. I can’t deny it anymore. I guess I thought it was pretty obvious how I felt, but maybe not. I sincerely hope you return the feeling.  
  
Steve  
  
I finish the letter and sink to my knees on the floor, mouth wide open, eyes unseeing, cheeks flushing cherry red. I feel the heat continuously pounding in my head, my mind wheeling and screaming. A blur of black moves past me: Natasha leaving to get ready for the party. The party! I can’t face Steve at the party after this. I’m too embarrassed. Of course I feel the same way, but I’m terrified to tell him that. What happens afterward? What if it ruins our relationship and the entire team feels awkward because my training-partner-turned-boyfriend and I couldn’t make things work? Or what if it’s a trick? I resist the urge to pull out my hair at this thought. It can’t be, I tell myself, not feeling reassured in the slightest.  
  
A knock sounds suddenly at the door, three crisp, quiet raps. My head is still spinning. I make up my mind to go to my party, but to act as if I never saw the note. I can be cool and nonchalant, right? Gosh, I hope so. Everything depends on it.  
  
I stand up from the floor and walk to the door, flattening my skirt and adjusting my posture. I take a deep breath, place my hand on the knob, and swing the door open wide, prepared for the worst.  
  
On the opposite side, Bucky leans casually against the doorframe. He stands up straight, brushing his hair out of his face and giving me a better look at his sport coat and bowtie. “Took you long enough, princess,” he laughs teasingly.  
  
“What’s with the ensemble, Bucky?” I ask, gesturing at his outfit.  
  
“This is just the escort outfit. I’m losing the jacket and tie and picking up my leather one as soon as we get there. I feel ridiculous.”  
  
“I think it’s pretty suave,” I joke with my friend, raising an eyebrow in jest.  
  
He rolls his eyes but laughs right along with me. “You ready to go?” he goads, sticking out his normal arm for me to take. I take it gingerly, unsure if he’s serious or not, and give him a wary look. “You don’t have to do that yet,” he whispers reassuringly, all traces of mockery gone, correctly interpreting my confusion. I nod and drop my hand. I backtrack into my suite to grab my clutch, and we set off down the hall toward the lounge area.  
  
At the end of a corridor, when the dark wood paneling of the lounge room comes into view, Bucky holds out his arm again, and I take it, still feeling weird, but not as much. We walk out into the room, the music pulsing louder with every step.  
  
Everyone turns when the two of us saunter in. “I’ve brought the guest of honor, everyone,” Bucky says dramatically, gesturing to me as if I’m not already a human disco ball. I like the outfit, but I’m suddenly realizing why Pepper picked it for me--to be the indisputable center of attention.  
  
“Heeey, Nutmeg!” Tony calls. I consider scowling at him, but think better of it. Embracing the focus on myself, I wave to my teammates and strut over to where they’ve gathered around the coffee table and its cluster of chairs, Bucky close behind. Several wave back, and Bucky and Steve exchange strange looks as Sam stands from his seat, raising a glass of wine to toast.  
  
“To Meg, the newest Avenger. Here’s to a wonderful new superhero!” Everyone claps. “Now let’s eat!”  
  
Soon the party is in full swing. Agent Hill shows up right after I get there and joins in the revels. Other superheroes who don’t technically work for the Avengers (Doctor Strange, Captain Marvel, Ant-Man, Wasp, Black Panther, and the Guardians of the Galaxy) arrive and introduce themselves to me, wish me a happy birthday, and start mingling at the party. The food is great, thanks to Pepper, Sam, and Steve, and everyone is having a really great time.  
  
Groot (a literal talking tree) walks up to me. “I am Groot,” he says.  
  
“Hi, Groot. I am Meg,” I answer with a smile.  
  
“I am Groot.”  
  
“I am Meg...Levesque?” I reply.  
  
“I am Groot.”  
  
“I am….” My brain wants me to say “Meg Rogers”, but that’ll never happen. It’s impossible and embarrassing. I feel my face heat up at the thought of my near-mishap.  
  
“He says happy birthday,” Star-Lord says, strolling over with a drink and conveniently saving me from humiliating myself.  
  
“Oh. Thank you, Groot.”  
  
“I’m Peter,” he says, shaking my hand. “My team introduced themselves, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” I answer. “I got a stern lecture about using the word ‘raccoon’ from Rocket.”  
  
“Yeeeah, he’s not a big fan of that word. He prefers ‘garbage rat’ or ‘dumpster squirrel’.”


	6. It's No Fun Being Left Out of the Inappropriate Inside Joke

I’m sitting around the coffee table with Natasha, Wanda, Drax, Gamora, Scott, Clint, Maria, and Steve, listening to a crazy space tale, when a shout crosses the room.  
  
“Hey Rogers!” Tony calls boisterously. “You want some fondue?”  
  
I turn my head to look curiously at Steve, who is on the side of the circle farthest from the minibar and closest to me. My heart flutters when I look at him. He freezes for half a second, rolls his eyes, and replies at an equal volume, “We don’t have any, Stark, and no I do not!”  
  
Tony laughs and continues the taunting shouting match, oblivious to the fact that the entire room has gone silent. “You sure, Steve? You could make some! I bet it’s sweet and extra special tonight! Top it off with some chocolate curls….”  
  
Several other people in the room start snickering, trying very hard to hide it. Bucky, next to Tony at the minibar, looks particularly amused. Steve jumps out of his relaxed stance leaning against a chair and shouts, “Tony, I am not ready for fondue! I haven’t even finished dinner yet!”  
  
“Whatever, Rogers,” Tony mutters as he turns back around to the counter to chat with Rhodey and Bucky. Steve looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him as he struggles to regain his composure and sit down. Okay, clearly there’s some hidden meaning here that I’m missing. I shoot him a concerned glance, and he reluctantly motions for me to follow him out. I stand up and proceed after him to a small section of the room separated from the rest by a long floor-to-ceiling shelving unit filled with glasses and other party necessities.  
  
“What was that nonsense about?” I demand quietly.  
  
“Just an old misunderstanding between Stark and me,” he whispers. “I-- I’d really rather not explain right now, if that’s okay.” He shifts his gaze into my eyes then, and I feel the conviction to my secret slipping away. I’m so close I could just….  
  
Suddenly Bucky’s head appears around the end of the shelf, his metal fingers clinging to the edge. His eyes widen as he catches Steve and me staring at each other for the third of a second before we notice him. “Tony, come take a look!” he cries jubilantly, taking pride in embarrassing his friends.  
  
Tony calls back from beyond my field of view, “For goodness sake, can’t you at least go do that someplace more private? You know what, whatever, just be careful, and don’t make a mess!”  
  
I groan. Of course someone outside the scenario would misinterpret what was happening in this corner. Or...I was right! They were planning to trick me all along!  
  
I hurriedly step away from Steve, feeling hot and flushed and totally ashamed. I wish I were invisible. Was I that obvious? I think as I emerge quickly from the corner. No one turns when I emerge. The sound of my heels is muted by the music, and the sequins of my skirt aren’t flashing and reflecting light all over the room. I am invisible. I am literally invisible. I flip my hair away from my face as I stride back toward the gathering in frustration, reappearing as I get closer to the gathering.  
  
“Meg, wait!” Steve calls from somewhere behind me. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Natasha jumps from her seat as I approach, ready to placate me. “Meg, calm down--”  
  
I hold up my hand in a motion of pushing her away. “I can’t right now, okay? Just give me a minute.”  
  
Then Tony’s out of his seat in the circle and facing Steve. “What did you do, Steven?” he shouts in a paternal voice.  
  
“I don’t-- I have no idea--” Steve stutters, looking fearfully towards me as Natasha turns me back to her and tries to appease me. I resist, keeping my head turned in the direction I came from.  
  
“Steve, doesn’t Meg return the feelings you told her about?” Tony asks, planting his hand on Steve’s shoulder in what is clearly an uncomfortable gesture.  
  
Steve looks at me for the tiniest fraction of a second, then back to Tony. “Really, Stark? I never told--”  
  
“Ha!” Natasha shouts triumphantly. “Don’t try and tell me you weren’t feeling shy this time, Rogers!”  
  
“Steve,” Bruce says in a grave voice, “take your own advice about waiting too long.”  
  
“It’s not--”  
  
“It’s not like that? Please, Steve. It’s obvious,” Tony retorts. “You can’t stop looking at her any time she’s around. You should’ve seen your face when she came in here tonight. Why wouldn’t you tell her?”  
  
“Tony, I’m out of practice with this sort of thing, and I’ve had my heart broken too often in too many places and too many ways to constantly go after a relationship. Besides, I was trying to be professional and not overwhelm our new recruit. Not to mention I’m way too old for her!”  
  
“Dude, you’re eternally twenty-one. Chill out. That’s why we took matters into our own hands. Natasha, Pepper, and I--”  
  
“No no no! Don’t you bring me into this, Tony!” Pepper shouts at him, holding up one threatening finger. “I was minimally involved!”  
  
“Fine. Natasha and I could totally see through you, so we decided to set you up. You got the letter earlier, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Steve answers grudgingly, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
“That was part one of the plan. Then part two was the ‘fondue’ reference, which I hoped would incite Meg’s curiosity and get you two alone. I never thought two competent people could be so completely oblivious to each other on such a magnitude to need an explanatory part three. Unless I’m wrong about your competency.” Tony sighs and shakes his head.  
  
Steve ignores Tony’s insult and pursues the issue. “Tony, why did you feel the need to get involved? I’m perfectly capable of--”  
  
“Steven Grant Rogers, you are like a hundred years old. Prove it. If you’re so capable, then be a man and tell that girl how you feel already!”  
  
I can hardly contain myself. My head is spinning with the commotion. I feel like my heart is swelling with joy right now. The trick was never to make a fool of me, it was to bring two lovesick fools together. I can feel all the anger melt from my face, but I’m definitely still blushing. I have to work very hard to stop myself from jumping and squealing with excitement.  
  
Steve takes a few cautious steps forward, looking to me to check that I’m ready to talk to him. I look at Natasha and take her hand off my shoulder with a small, reassuring nod. I turn back around in the total silence and rapidly close the distance between us, stopping just a few inches short of Steve as he takes both my hands in his.  
  
“Meg, I’m really sorry about this. I guess I sort of ruined your party.”  
  
I snort. “Please, Steve. Having a requited crush is honestly the greatest birthday gift I could ask for.”  
  
His entire face brightens. “I’m so glad,” he says quietly, engulfing me in a strong, muscular hug. Standing on my toes, I wrap my arms around him and snuggle closer, content.  
  
He loosens his arms then, and we stand in our embrace, smiling faintly at each other. “Can I take you out sometime, Meg?” he asks, grinning goofily.  
  
Before I can answer with an overjoyed “yes”, Thor jumps up and shouts, “Wait, wait, wait, my friends!”  
I turn my head and look at him balefully. “What?”  
  
“Let us decide if the captain gets a date the traditional Asgardian way,” Thor proceeds. “With a trial. If Steve can pick up my new hammer, he wins the prize he seeks.”  
  
I roll my eyes and give him my best pout. “Please, Thor, not now.”  
  
Steve lets go of me. “No, that’s fair, I guess. Does it work the same way as the old one?” He starts to stroll toward the table, but catches my wrist and pauses just long enough to whisper something else in my ear. “I could have picked up the other one when he tried this the first time. I chose not to because they were all drunk at the time, so it wasn’t really fair, and I didn’t want to embarrass Thor,” he hints. Bearing that in mind, he walks away to where Thor has placed his hammer on the table.  
  
Steve firmly grips the handle of the hammer and yanks upward, straining his muscles with the effort. The hammer budges a tiny bit, but it does not rise all the way off the table.  
  
Defeat flickers across Steve’s face, quickly replaced by determination. He tries again, but nothing happens. “Perhaps Stormbreaker can sense your motivations, Captain,” Thor supplies softly. At that moment, I storm into the circle and grasp the handle, my hands placed between Steve’s. Together, we can pull it sideways, but not off the table.  
  
“Maybe we’re not as good as we thought we were,” Steve says to me, breathless.  
  
I feel defeated. “I guess Thor’s right.”  
  
“I’ve been foiled by a hammer. Maybe it is more intelligent than we give it credit for, and it could sense my altered motive.”  
  
Even though I’m wearing heels, I stand on my toes to kiss his cheek. “You can still have that date, you know,” I tell him with a smirk.  
  
“How about Friday night?” Steve asks, grinning.  
  
“That sounds perfect.” The other heroes around us are still utterly silent, but I don’t care. The only thing I notice is the proximity between the two of us, and how he’s getting closer every second. “If I started kissing you, I don’t know if I could stop,” he mutters under his breath. “Can I…”  
  
I nod fervently, and suddenly Steve’s lips are against mine. The feeling is indescribable. My heart stops for a second and then hammers into overdrive, mirroring the pattern of my thoughts. I’m so overwhelmed, I can’t remember my own name. Whoever defined bliss as ignorance was clearly inexperienced.  
  
Minutes later, or maybe only seconds, someone coughs conspicuously, and the kiss ends. My brain is still wheeling, and I feel lightheaded and I don’t know why.  
  
“Breathe, Meg,” Steve commands gently. I do, and my mind starts up again, every detail of the kiss perfectly preserved in my memory.  
  
I gasp and brush my hair behind my ear, still dazed. I think I’m even beyond speech at this point.  
  
“Sorry about that,” Steve laughs, touching my cheek. “I should have-- I didn’t realize--”  
  
“Sorry?” I splutter indignantly, finding my voice at last. “Sorry? I hope you aren’t apologizing for that, Steve, because that was the greatest kiss in, like, the history of all kisses!”  
  
The entire room bursts into laughter at that point. I twist halfway out of Steve’s arms and see the couples in the crowd kissing, as if following our example: Tony and Pepper, Wanda and Vision, Quill and Gamora, Scott and Hope. Bucky catches Steve’s eye and whistles at him, making him snicker.


	7. Nobody Even Dared Me to Do it

“You’re never gonna hear the end of that, you know,” Rhodey says matter-of-factly as we clean up the last traces of the party.  
  
“Yeah, Tony’s definitely going to use that against you guys,” Bruce concurs, walking over to us.  
  
“Aw, come on, guys,” Wanda begs jokingly as she floats closer, “I thought it was cute.”  
  
“Doesn’t change the fact that Stark’s still never letting it go,” Clint says, flicking a piece of trash effortlessly into the garbage can. “He didn’t think you would be that intense from the beginning.”  
  
“I did not expect that to be the way this party went,” admits Sam.  
  
“What did you expect, Wilson?” Natasha calls, her voice almost accusing.  
  
“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe somebody ending up doing something regrettable, like dying your hair purple on a dare.” My eyes spark at this idea, but I don’t say anything out loud. I catch Wanda’s eye and nod toward Sam, indicating what he just said, thinking a question at her. She comprehends and nods with a knowing smile.  
  
\---  
  
Steve walks me back to my room after midnight, my hand in his. “Tonight was really fun,” I tell him when we stop outside my door. I slip my arms out of the leather jacket he lent to me earlier and hand it back to him. “Thanks...for everything.”  
  
He nods. “No problem, Meg. I’ll let you know when I figure something out for Friday.” He steps closer and kisses me again, this time not as intensely mind-blowing and revolutionary as the first, but still good. It’s slower, softer, and sweeter. I sigh when he pulls back and drops one of my hands so I can open the door. As I do, I almost step on the letter from earlier this evening. I pick it up and turn back around instantly, not letting him leave before I can show him.  
  
“I know you didn’t actually write this, but I just wanted to know how accurate they got with it,” I explain, holding the note out to him. He takes it and pulls the paper out, scanning it quickly.  
  
“Terrible,” Steve answers bluntly, tossing the papers aside. “There was not nearly enough passion and anxiety in that note for it to be authentic. This is not the kind of love confession I would realistically write.”  
  
A tiny “oh” escapes my throat before I can stop it. I feel silly for believing it, but it’s in the past. It’s not the important thing right now.  
  
Before I can do anything else, Steve pulls a folded square of brown paper out of his pocket and hands it to me. “How was their performance?” he asks slyly. I take it from him and unfold it, reading the elegantly written lines rapidly.  
  
Dear Steve,  
  
I know we just met, and we obviously have an obligation to stay professional, but there’s a secret I can’t hide anymore. I’m head over heels for you. I know it’s sudden, but it’s the truth. I really hope you feel the same way.  
  
XO, Meg  
  
“I think they overplayed the desperate and emotional card just a little bit,” I assess simply. “And my handwriting looks nothing like this.”  
  
Steve breaks into laughter at that. “Good to know.”  
  
“Now when’s your birthday? I need to plan something big enough to top this for you,” I joke.  
  
“Uh, the Fourth of July,” Steve answers, deciding not to stall.  
  
“Are you serious.” The toneless sentence isn’t even a question. “Your birthday is on freaking Independence Day. No wonder…” I break off in laughter and hug Steve one last time, feeling him rest his head atop mine.  
  
“Good night, Meg,” he whispers in my ear. “Happy birthday.”  
  
“Thanks. Good night, Steve,” I say, fighting a losing battle against my laughter. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” For some reason, it emerges as a question. Man, my sentence types are off today.  
  
“Of course, ma’am,” he jokes. “Maybe I can finish your combat training with you and pass it off to someone else for superpower technique perfection.”  
  
“Aw, Steve, please don’t!” I plead. “You and I both know you can help me with my...talent just as well as anyone else could.”  
  
He sighs exaggeratedly. “Okay, fine,” Steve concedes, winking as I blow him a kiss. He waves and walks down the hall toward the elevator, leaving me alone.  
  
I scramble at once into my room with my heart pounding, slamming the door and rushing into the monstrous bathroom. “It took you long enough,” Wanda says snarkily from the counter, posed as if she’s just casually examining her nails. I know better.  
  
“Sorry, Wanda,” I manage, my breath still coming back to me. I face her, slightly abashed. “How much did you hear?”  
  
“The whole mushy, gushy thing,” she says, hopping down. Then she laughs. “I’m kidding. You two are so adorable.”  
  
I blush at this comment and sink back onto the stool Natasha used for my makeover a few hours before. Wanda tiptoes over and starts gathering my hair in clusters, taking inventory.  
  
“So you want the whole thing purple?” she checks.  
  
I nod. “It’s my first chance to actually do it. I’m going all in. Plus, then I’m a little less recognizable, right? I have very, very minor celebrity status. I’ve been recognized by, like, four strangers on the street. ”  
  
She laughs. “Okay, Hollywood, here goes.”  
  
I close my eyes, and the light filtering through my lids becomes tinged with red from Wanda’s powers. Her hands move around my head, working their literal magic. I’m afraid to watch.  
  
“Ta-da!” my friend exclaims gleefully, stepping back. I open my eyes, and my first response is to laugh. I can’t help but smile at the reflection in the mirror. Every hair on my head is now colored electric purple, standing out vividly from the black-and-white background.  
  
“Wow. I-- I love it.”  
  
Wanda breathes out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I hoped you would. Anything else?”  
  
I ponder her question for a moment. “Not right now. Thanks, Wanda.”  
  
She smiles and moves lithely and silently through the bedroom and out the door. I take one last look in the mirror and grin at myself before changing clothes, getting ready for bed, and crashing.


	8. I Feel Attacked, Both Metaphorically and Literally (in a 3-on-1 Fight)

The next morning, I sleep in late and wake up suddenly, having a flashback to years ago when I overslept and was late for school. The moment of panic dissipates, and I sit in my bed a moment longer to calm my heart back down.  
  
When I emerge into the kitchen, everyone looks up from his or her task and startles. Except for Wanda. She obviously isn’t surprised. The reactions range from Sam widening his eyes and then looking back down at his food to Natasha cocking her head at me to Bruce outright staring and forgetting to blink. Ah, right, the hair.  
  
A moment later, Steve walks through the wide doorway, takes one look at me, and wraps his arms around me wordlessly. Tony, of course, chooses that exact moment to finish scrambling eggs, so he catches the full extent of the embrace.  
  
“Look at that, the old man’s dating an emo teenage girl. Anyone else think that’s a little creepy?”  
  
“Hey, I turned twenty-two yesterday. I think that qualifies me as a legal adult,” I retort, pointing one finger at him across the immaculate kitchen.  
  
“Yet here you are with bright purple hair, you little rebel,” Tony says, waving a spatula and ending the conversation. “Besides, don’t you think he’s a little old for you?” Dum-E the robot picks this exact moment to roll in, flailing his own spatula as Tony shoos him away. I roll my eyes with a tiny smile and snuggle closer to Steve.  
  
“Good morning,” I whisper against his chest, turning my face up to better look at him.  
  
“Hey. I like your hair.” He smirks and taps my nose with his index finger, holding me for one more too-quick moment before letting go. He strolls across the room and fills a mug with coffee, clearly trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Any new mission info today?” he asks, addressing the room in general.  
  
Natasha keeps typing on her laptop. “We’re starting an investigation on some odd alien material left in Wakanda yesterday. It should just be a short recon trip requiring only a couple of agents, but it may be a threat. Don’t worry, Cap, you’ll still get your fight.”  
  
Steve looks very confused at her answer. He sips his coffee and smooths his face, still thinking.  
  
I join Sam, Bruce, and Natasha at the table, grabbing a Pop-Tart out of the open box in the middle. I nibble at it, not tasting it. A threat. My first fight. Will I be ready? I think desperately. I have to be. I have to try.  
  
\---  
  
Steve and I spend most of the day in the training room together. We spar some more, and he commends me for my improvement, then we run a few laps. Thankfully, he sticks with me rather than racing ahead and lapping me multiple times, which helps me a little bit. At this point, I’m exhausted, but I have to hand it to Steve. He knows how to motivate someone. He hints at his plans for our date as I try to do pull-ups. He tells me to wrap myself around him and hang on as he cranks out a couple hundred pull-ups himself, blowing kisses at me every so often. He quizzes me on tactics and rules as I punch one of the punching bags (I refuse to punch him any more than necessary, especially now that we’re dating).  
  
“That was impressive,” Steve says as I fall to the floor and prop my feet against the bag, feeling like a limp noodle.  
  
“Are we done yet?” I gasp, barely able to swallow. Steve tosses my water bottle across the room and I catch it, dumping a large quantity into my mouth. Steve laughs. I must look ridiculous.  
  
“I thought you wanted me to be in charge of your specialized training too,” he teases.  
  
I instantly turn into Natasha and stick my tongue out at him. “Done.” I change back and exhale loudly. “Steve, are you running me ragged because Natasha said these alien things they’re investigating might be an imminent threat?” I ask seriously. I hoist my sore body up and scoot back to lean against the edge of the boxing ring. Steve stands stiffly, staring at the wall several feet away. “Look, I get it. That makes perfect sense, but I can’t keep this up forever. I’m not superhuman like you.”  
  
That gets his attention. He turns around and gives me the cutest puppy face I’ve ever seen. He closes the gap between us in three long strides and squats in front of me, lifting my chin with one hand.  
  
“Are you okay, Meg?” he asks sincerely. “Do you need to take a break?” I nod weakly. “Okay.” He sits down next to me. “I’m sorry. I tend to forget that my capabilities are...greater than average.” I laugh at the understatement, and he pulls me closer to him. “Wait, are you upset?”  
  
I pause, feeling the sad frown on my face. “I don’t know-- I don’t know why-- I think I’m just sore and exhausted,” I finish lamely.  
  
“Are you sure?” Steve asks.  
  
“I just don’t want to disappoint you!” I whisper shakily. “I’m sorry, Steve,” I say, trying to calm myself down.  
  
“Meg, honey,” he soothes. “You don’t have to worry about that. You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. You’re human. That’s not a bad thing. I just need to keep your limits in mind from now on.” He lightly kisses my lips and draws me closer still. “Are you tired from the party last night?”  
  
I shake my head and sit back up, chugging some more water. “It’s kind of a personal problem.” I pause, letting my mind connect the puzzle pieces. “I wasn’t totally worried about that stuff. I just changed into Natasha, and I’m sure she’s stressed about this mission, so I…. I guess I can still feel what she feels. She’s upset….” I gasp, my eyes the size of saucers. “And it’s the anniversary of Peter’s uncle’s death, and he still feels guilty about indirectly causing it. I could tell he was upset this morning.” My self-esteem issues and worries about Steve’s disappointment, misinterpretations of my waning connection to Natasha’s emotions, seem trivial compared to this. I stare at the wall, my mind numb with revelation, and suddenly my body goes warmer for a fraction of a second. Steve looks up and almost falls over in shock.  
  
“What the…” he mutters, staring incredulously at me. “Did you just turn into Wanda? Or did she create an illusion and vanish you?”  
  
“The first one,” Wanda says slyly from the doorway. “I came down here to check on you guys.” She takes a step into the room. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“If you can give me back some energy with a spell, that would be greatly appreciated,” I answer sourly.  
  
“If you want me to try, you might start by changing back into yourself first,” Wanda suggests, pointing at me. Excited by this prospect, I undo the transformation and stand up too quickly, wobbling a lot as my jelly-like legs adjust. “Here goes,” Wanda says, throwing her hands out and shooting swirling, coiling clouds of red mist at me. I suddenly feel invigorated, and I check myself out. How can she supernaturally make me feel better and look more like I’ve actually been working out? I guess I’d better get used to the supernatural, considering I’m now hanging out with a dozen other superheroes.  
  
Before I can thank Wanda, another figure appears in the archway. “Hey,” Bucky says, leaning against the edge of the doorway. “Anything interesting happening down here?”  
Steve stands up and looks at me with a cocky grin. “You up for a three-on-one sparring match?”  
  
“Oh, boy,” I respond. “Okay, fine, but please don’t kill me.”  
  
“I’ll go easy on you, remember?” Wanda trills as she skips to the locker room to change.  
  
“I won’t.” Bucky grins at me, but once he catches his best friend’s eye, his face falls. “Fine. Maybe just a little bit easy.”  
  
The two are out of the locker rooms in record time. Steve, Bucky, and Wanda form a loose semicircle in front of me and stare me down. “Just hand-to-hand, no weapons, right?” I ask nervously, seeing Bucky curl his hands into fists. He’s dangerous enough on his own, gun or no gun (not that he’d shoot me). Plus, Steve’s shield could quite possibly slice my head off, and Wanda could incapacitate me with any of her plethora of abilities.  
  
“Of course,” Steve answers. “This is just practice.”  
  
“Does that mean no magic?” Wanda asks, wiggling the fingers of one hand in the air and sending red sparks everywhere.  
  
“Magic’s allowed,” Bucky says, observing the terrified face I’m making as he twists his metallic fist into his other palm. He stops it immediately.  
  
Without any further introduction, the three of them launch themselves at me, fists flying. I kick someone in the leg and grab another person’s arm, punching his rock-hard abs as hard as I can. Wanda levitates above, so I grab her ankle and swing her into the other two, knocking them off their feet.  
  
You have powers, idiot, I remind myself. I shapeshift into Wanda again and blast the real Wanda out of the air, knocking her to the ground, where she gets tied up with our boxing wraps (animated at my command). I can tell she’s frustrated by this, but also a little excited at my progress. I whip back around to face Steve and Bucky, charging me one after another. I try to use the scarlet magic again, but Bucky shields his face from it with his prosthetic arm. Irritated, I roll away and shift into Natasha.  
  
I freeze, catlike and coiled to spring, on the mat-covered floor until Steve gets close enough. I jump out and trip him, but he gets right back up off the ground.  
  
I shift through the forms of many of the Avengers, but none seem the right match for these two. Invisibility gives me an advantage, but they eventually realize that they can find me by my footprints on the floor. I roll out of their direct path again and emerge disguised as Bucky himself.  
  
Both men freeze. I’ve caught them off guard. I inch closer and divide my punches between the two, ducking out of the way at times to see them hit each other on occasion. I crouch to the floor and kick Bucky’s legs out from under him, landing a kick to his stomach as he tries to get back up.  
  
I flip back around, stand up swiftly, and clench Steve’s shoulder, hitting him repeatedly until he falls. He lands on his back, and I gently place one foot on his chest as I transform back into myself.  
  
“How’d I do?” I ask, out of breath but still grinning.  
  
“That’s my girl,” Steve says with a grin as I let him sit up. Bucky struggles up and frees Wanda from her bindings. All three stand around me, looking proud and a little smug.  
  
“Can we call it a day now?”  
  
Steve throws his arm around me. “Sure we can.”


	9. Everything Gets Better When Star Wars Music is Playing

The four of us walk back upstairs, pausing in the kitchen to steal some of Pepper’s fresh cookies and then parading further up to our rooms. We run into Vision in the hall, and Wanda disappears with him, but Bucky and Steve stick with me until we reach my door.  
  
“Don’t take too long, or Steve might get mopey,” Bucky calls as I walk into my room. Steve punches him in the arm, murmuring “jerk” and causing me to bust in giggles as I shut the door on them. Dorks.  
  
I shower, throw on some sweats and a tank top, and head back to the kitchen for dinner. Everybody waves and smiles when I come in, as if they’ve been expecting me. I sit down at the table and fill my plate, suddenly ravenous.  
  
“We heard all about how you totally kicked butt down in the training room,” Bruce says with a grin. “Bucky won’t shut up about how he shouldn’t have gone so easy on you and whatever.” He rolls his eyes.  
  
“She was amazing,” Steve agrees, his eyes huge with...admiration? What is that look on his face? I don’t understand men. Is this the trainer, superhero, soldier, friend, or boyfriend talking?  
  
I shake my head. “I think I still need some practice,” I say, looking down at the table and fighting the blush rising in my cheeks as I twirl spaghetti on my fork. I start to turn invisible, but I have to stop myself.  
  
“The way she uses her ability in battle is awesome,” Bucky counters. “It totally caught me off guard and scared me, so she beat me up. Relatively speaking.” He smiles smugly at me, pridefully flaunting his superhuman strength as he flexes his metal arm. I bury my face in my hands, trying not to react any more than that and spur him on.  
  
“Yeah, I’m great at being a distraction,” I say darkly, staring at the ceiling now just to avoid eye contact. I watch Bucky and Tony both stare at Steve meaningfully, making the entire table start laughing. The conversation quiets down and goes back to normal after that.  
  
“Can we have a movie night tonight?” Peter pipes up from a few seats away, lifting his head off the wood just long enough for me to see that his eyes are red and puffy, his voice small and weak.  
  
Everyone at the table looks around at one another. “I think that’s a great idea,” I assert, trying to catch Peter’s eye.  
  
He won’t look at me. The others murmur their assent, and Peter seems to perk up a little bit. “Star Wars?” he asks, his voice cracking.  
  
We finish our dinner on a happier note, then Peter chooses a Star Wars movie for us to watch and everybody settles in on the couches.  
  
“No PDA,” Tony announces, staring directly at Steve and me. “I’m talking to you two.” He does the little two finger “I’m watching you” gesture and takes his seat next to Pepper. Ignoring him, I stop Peter as he walks by and give him a huge hug.  
  
“Are you okay?” I whisper in his ear. He nods, and I know it’s sincere. He’ll be okay soon.  
  
I settle back on the couch and curl my legs up, leaning against Steve. He puts his arm around me and draws me closer as the movie starts up, epic music blaring through the spectacular speaker system.  
  
A few minutes in, Steve stops watching the screen and starts tracing patterns up and down my arm with his fingertip. “Are you bored?” I ask him.  
  
He shrugs. “Maybe a little. I watched this one not too long ago to catch up on stuff, and I’m not really in the mood.” He drags something out from between the cushion and the arm of the couch, obscured by the pillows in the corner. He produces two sketchbooks and a tiny pouch of drawing pencils with an adorable little smile on his face.  
  
“You like to draw?” I query meekly, innocently, curiously.  
  
“I haven’t done it for a while, but yeah. It relaxes me.” He keeps smiling that tiny, modest smile, and I can’t help it. I peck a kiss on his cheek and lean against his side again, watching Tony sit up stiffly and glare. I laugh silently as Steve withdraws his arm and shows me how to draw and shade different objects with whispered hints. He gives me one of the small sketchbooks and sets the pencils between us, and I start sketching the room for lack of inspiration. When that’s done, I fill a page with swirling floral and vine designs, and suddenly the lights are all on and I’m blinking stupidly, trying to recover my senses.  
  
Peter immediately launches into an animated discussion of Star Wars with Rhodey and Sam, which makes me smile. He’s feeling better. I close the sketchbook and sit up, ready to hand it off to Steve, but I freeze. He has the other notebook on his lap, and he’s still bent over it, finishing his sketch. He looks up a few seconds later, noticing my astonished stare, and smiles shyly.  
  
“What do you think?” he asks, holding it up for me. I’m taken aback. The drawing is a realistic portrait of me, so accurate it could be a photograph. I stare, bewildered, eyes flickering between the paper and Steve, mouth hanging open.  
  
“You drew me?!” I exclaim, still trying to process this. “That’s-- That is the most amazing drawing I’ve ever seen, Steve. How did you-- I don’t-- Why don’t you have art in a museum?” I splutter, unable to comprehend his talent.  
  
He blushes and looks down. Always the modest gentleman. “Thanks, Meg. That’s high praise. But I can’t take all the credit. I was just inspired by a true masterpiece and did my best to recreate it.”  
  
The blood rushes to my face faster than ever before. I can see all the other Avengers laughing at my reaction. Why am I so embarrassed? He totally just complimented me, but of course, I’m unsure of how to respond. No, that’s beyond a compliment. That’s a...oh, who cares what it’s called! The point is, he’s super smooth, and I’m super clueless. But it’s fine, right?  
  
Everybody’s making mock kissy noises at us, and Tony’s mouthing something to me. I refuse to focus on him enough to read his lips, but I know I probably shouldn’t be thinking about whatever he’s trying to say.  
  
I turn my head and look back at Steve, eyes sparkling. Without another thought, he’s kissing me again, kissing me senseless. The rest of the room blurs and disappears. All that matters is Steve, me, this moment. And this moment is perfect. His lips press into mine and his arms crush me closer to him. I can’t resist. I throw my arms around his neck, closing the tiny gap between us even further. There is no sight, no sound, no sense except the spark I feel every place he touches me. My heart is pounding against my chest, feeling its proximity to its other half.  
  
We break apart too soon, and I tumble backwards onto the next couch cushion. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been moving to get to him. Both of us are gasping for air, but the lightheadedness isn’t from that. Steve’s smile reveals to me every layer of pure joy he experienced in that kiss, which is exactly the same as I feel.  
  
Then comes the slow clapping. Soon the entire room is sarcastically applauding our romantic display, deadpan expressions on all their faces.  
  
“What happened to ‘no PDA’?” Tony asks in a silky, dangerous voice. “Can’t the two of you at least keep it PG?”  
  
I pivot on the couch to glare at him. “Tony, you really expect the two of us to be the concerning sources of inappropriate content?”  
  
He raises his eyebrows, once again insinuating a completely different context.  
  
“Besides,” I continue, gesturing with my hands while trying to suppress my rage to a manageable, fair level, “last time I checked, we’re pretty much all adults. Peter’s the youngest one here, and he’s eighteen, so he’s legally an adult. I don’t like your attitude or your comments, Stark. I’m sorry, but I refuse to take it anymore.”  
  
At this point, I’m not on my knees on the couch anymore. I’m standing just a few feet from Tony’s face, and he doesn’t appreciate this. He looks like he’s going to start dad-yelling at me, but his harsh expression smooths out unexpectedly. “You know what, you’re right. I’ll give you guys a break. For the time being. But it’s in my nature to tease Steve, and then you by association. Enjoy it while it lasts, kids.” He smirks at me and mouths, Now go. Giggling, I turn back and fall back into my seat beside Steve, and the party starts up with its lively chatter again.


	10. My First Date in a While Doesn't Flop!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All translations from French (in this chapter and later ones) are in brackets after the French word/phrase.
> 
> Also, FYI, if you've already read this chapter, I changed it today (7/25/20) so that the musical is Hamilton, due to my newfound obsession with said show.

I brush on one last sweep of mascara and step back from the mirror, checking my reflection. The girl in the mirror blinks her long lashes at me, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. I did successfully manage to figure out an ensemble that wouldn’t look disastrous with my hair: a simple, off-the-shoulder black dress that fits perfectly, paired with purple heels that almost identically match the color of my hair. I grin at my reflection and sweep my hair over my shoulder, picking up my clutch from the counter as I turn off the lights and leave my room.  
  
I shut the door quietly, hoping not to disturb anybody else’s activities. But as I expected, they’re all hanging around close by, needing to be a part of the moment. I never would’ve thought I could get annoyed with the Avengers, but that was before I met them.  
  
I make my way into the room where, only a week earlier, all this drama started. I walk in nervously, shoulders tense, hands clasped together, looking like an awkward teenage girl. All the superheroes, laughing around the coffee table, spot me moving toward them unsteadily and stand up. Natasha and Clint hurry over to me, each lightly touching one of my shoulders.  
  
“You look like you’re going to fall over,” Clint says.  
  
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Natasha inquires, concerned. The two of them guide me to one of the chairs, and I sink gratefully into it.  
  
“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m okay. I just...haven’t been on a date in a while. That’s all.” I shiver and try to laugh it off, but it doesn’t seem as effortless as it was meant to.  
  
Three deep voices sound down the hallway, their laughter echoing to us. Sam, Bucky, and Steve round the corner into the room, laughing at some unknown joke. I stand up, losing my balance in the humongous heels and stumbling forward. Luckily, Steve, with his superhuman speed, is there, catching my hands and helping me regain my balance before I can hit the floor.  
  
“I guess you could say I fell for you,” I say, cocking an eyebrow at him, hoping to recover my klutzy blunder. Steve laughs at my goofy pun and pulls me all the way up again.  
  
“You look marvelous,” Steve says, glancing quickly at my outfit and back to my face, obviously trying not to overstep or be creepy. I stifle a laugh at his suppressed reaction.  
  
“It’s okay,” I whisper, stepping in closer to hug him and inhale the scent of his cologne. He embraces me in his strong arms, pulling me to his chest. “You look fantastic yourself.”  
  
“Are you ready to go?” he asks, taking an infinitesimal step backward. I nod eagerly, making my curls bounce. “Good. The taxi’s here. Let’s go!”  
  
Steve takes my hand, and we start running down the ramps of the tower toward the entrance. We slow down just before running into the glass doors, where a yellow taxi sits just outside. Steve pushes one of the doors open for me, nothing if not chivalrous. I smirk, and he hurries to open the car’s door as well. I slide into the plush interior and scoot to the other side, watching him fold himself fluidly into the car and shut the door.  
  
“Broadway, please, sir,” he says to the driver. The man turns around in his seat, disbelieving, but Steve doesn’t falter. “I know it’s a longer route than you normally get, but I am aware of what I’m getting myself into.” He smiles down at me, once again smaller than him in the seat, and takes my hand. I shift myself over into the middle of the backseat, closer to him, as the car starts moving.  
  
Steve puts his arm around me, and we cuddle in the backseat of the taxi. The city skyline zooms past in the evening light, but I can’t focus on it. My mind is too peaceful to take in much.  
  
I pull myself out of my groggy half-consciousness and move a tiny bit, trying to sit up a little straighter. “What show are we seeing?” I ask Steve as I manage to get myself upright enough to look at him without making him laugh at me.  
  
“I was waiting for you to ask that,” he jokes, grinning knowingly at me. “We’re going to see Hamilton.”  
  
“What?” I say before I can stop myself.  
  
“It’s been all the rage since it debuted.” Something in his eyes...he’s almost asking for my approval. My heart melts. What did I do to deserve Steve Rogers?  
  
“The music for that show is incredible! I’m obsessed. I can’t wait,” I answer excitedly. “I’ve never actually seen a show on Broadway.”  
  
“But...you like musicals?” he asks tentatively.  
  
“Heck yeah I do!” I say, beaming. “I did a brief stint as a theatre kid until the culture just got too toxic. I do miss it sometimes.” I pause ruefully. “I’ve always been partial to Les Misérables. Maybe it’s just a French thing.”  
  
“I should’ve guessed,” he teases.  
  
The rest of the evening passes in a blur, yet I can still remember every detail of it: the rest of the taxi ride, punctuated with periods of peaceful silence and ones of intent conversation about our favorite things; Steve’s laughter and brilliant smile during the show; his hand holding mine; people’s reactions to seeing us, whether they’re children freaking out over Captain America or middle-aged women silently judging my hair (I even catch an old man as he talks to one of the kids about the two of us, looking up, smiling, and telling the kid he agrees with whatever he said); our walk through the city streets, looking at the brightly lit buildings and beautiful parks; Steve giving me his jacket when the night air makes me too cold; another kiss, this one under the stars; Steve carrying me to the taxi when I can’t bear to walk in the shoes anymore; a buoyant conversation about the ridiculousness of the show on the way home.  
  
When the taxi drops us back at Avengers Tower, Steve and I get out, still laughing at our newfound jokes. I walk into the building barefoot, hand in hand and deep in conversation with Steve, to find (surprise) the entire team is still awake, waiting for an update.  
  
“--don’t call me son!” I finish loudly, grinning broadly.  
  
“I keep telling you, Tony and Hamilton...” Steve adds, still laughing as we turn the corner.  
  
“There they are!” Sam shouts. They all stand up and turn to look at the two of us, frozen halfway between the ramp and the gathering. Running would be futile. At least, it would for me. We have no choice but to endure whatever they’re going to ask us and hope for the best.  
  
“Did you have fun?” Wanda questions in an energetic voice.  
  
“Yeah, it was great,” I reply, my eyes flickering to Steve, our intertwined hands still swinging.  
  
“How was the show?” Pepper asks calmly, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder, as if to prevent him from doing anything to make us feel awkward or stupid.  
  
“Incredible,” I chime in. “It’ll never beat the original Broadway cast, but seeing it live was a dream come true.”  
  
“You enjoyed it?” Thor inquires.  
  
“Absolutely.” Steve can barely contain the grin spreading across his face.  
  
“Okay, okay, let’s call it a night,” Bucky says, pushing through the cluster of people to the front. He strikes me as impatiently curious. He’s going to ask Steve to spill every detail in an attempt to further humiliate him. Or get tips about asking girls out. Either way, oh, boy.  
  
We wave goodbye to our friends and leave, back in the direction of my room. I decide that now is the moment to warn Steve.  
  
“Steve, Bucky’s probably about to interrogate you,” I laugh. “Good luck.”  
  
Steve grimaces for a moment, but then his face settles back into its contented look. “I think I can handle him,” he answers confidently. We’re outside my door then, and we part with a hug and a promise of a second, more extraordinary date.  
  
I move uselessly around my room for a bit, unsure of what to do with myself. I empty the contents of my purse and put them back in their appropriate locations, but I’m still buzzing with energy. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.  
  
My cell phone lights up with a text message. I lunge across the bed for it and pick it up, reading the message from Steve. Feeling restless. You up for a midnight swim?  
  
I grin and text him back. See you in 5, I send. I jump up and rapidly change into a swimsuit, throwing on a t-shirt and grabbing a towel as I dash out the door.  
  
When I make it to the pool, I see Steve already in the water. I set my towel on a chair and pull off the t-shirt. Without hesitation, I run to the edge of the pool and cannonball in, splashing him in the face. He laughs and splashes me back until we’re in the middle of a full-on battle. I lead him out a little deeper into the water and jump onto his back when I find the opportunity, climbing onto his shoulders and bending down to kiss his forehead. “Je gagne [I win],” I tease, staring into his sparkling eyes upside down. I watch a smile spread across his face and whip my wet hair back.  
  
“On va voir [we’ll see],” Steve challenges, grabbing my ankles. He forces me up into a standing position with my feet suspended in midair, causing me to lose my balance, and tosses me into the air, catching me securely in the cradle of his arms. He lowers me back into the water so I can stand upright. I spit a jet of water in his direction, but he dodges it, causing it to narrowly miss his ear. He scoffs and picks me back up, this time throwing me over his shoulder and walking swiftly to the steps, where he deposits me. “Tu veux quelque chose, ma chérie [you want something, dear]?”  
  
I place a tiny kiss on his smirking lips and swim past him. I know he’s going to come after me, but that’s the fun of it. We chase each other around the pool until I’m exhausted and can’t do it anymore. I climb out of the water and sit on the pool’s edge, Steve standing in the water right in front of me.  
  
“Did you have fun tonight, sunflower?” Steve asks, folding his arms across my knees and leaning his head on them.  
  
“Of course I did,” I laugh, flicking a tiny splash of water against his side. He wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me back into the pool, kissing me slow and hard with his other hand combing through the tangled locks of my wet hair.  
  
He lifts me up again and sets me back on the ledge with an adorable grin. “Where’d you learn to speak French?” he inquires nonchalantly.  
  
“My mom’s parents were from France, and my dad’s parents met in Canada while his mom was visiting. He lived there for several years before moving here, so my parents both knew the language, and my brother and I grew up learning English and French at the same time, like my dad did. My mom learned English a little later when she moved here before elementary school,” I explain without missing a beat. “What about you?”  
  
“When I was at war, I thought it would be a good idea to know the language of our allies in order to communicate more effectively,” he answers. “Not as intricate of a backstory.”  
  
I freeze for the tiniest fraction of a second. He’s never talked about his life before the plane crash with me. I only know what the stories on the Internet and in museums tell you, which isn’t much beyond basic common knowledge.  
  
“What was it like?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Your life...before, I mean. If you want to tell me.”  
  
Steve laughs. “It was definitely different. The world was different, but more importantly, I was different. Before the superserum, I was this tiny orphaned kid with a thousand health issues and a readiness to fight. Bucky and I were still best friends then, of course. He was really my only friend. There were ideas snaking their way into society’s minds about how weak people like me shouldn’t be allowed to live, so I was hurtfully bullied and in constant fear. I really wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps and be a soldier, but for the longest time, they wouldn’t accept me. Too small, too sickly, too weak, etcetera. Better off dead.” I gasp in horror, and he gives a slow, anguished nod. “Then I got this offer, this once-in-a-lifetime chance to be the subject of a scientific experiment with a new superserum, so I took it. That’s actually how I met Tony’s dad--not the point. Anyways, I came out of that experience looking completely different than before and feeling even better. I could breathe, I was strong, I felt invincible. I was actually colorblind before, so it was incredibly shocking to come out and see everything in distinct colors. Every time I look at you, I’m so thankful for that, because I get to see the hints of green in your blue eyes and how they turn violet right before you transform. Plus, I could actually tell when you turned your hair purple.”  
  
I smile at his sweetness. “My eyes turn violet when I shift?” I ask incredulously.  
  
“You didn’t know?”  
  
I shrug. “I guess I never noticed that detail amidst all the other weirdness going on. Sorry, continue.”  
  
He laughs. “Then I sort of became ‘Captain America’ to promote helping with the war effort. I don’t think they ever meant to make me a superhero, but that’s what I became anyway. My first mission was to save a group of men, including my best friend, who were captured behind enemy lines. We later took down Hydra, or so I thought up until the brainwashed Winter Soldier showed up.”  
  
“And this all led up to the plane crash?” I ask sadly. He nods solemnly. “Were you really confused when you woke up?”  
  
“Oh yeah. But once I figured things out, I was sad. I had lost most of the people I cared about without even knowing it, and they didn’t exactly give me the needed time to acclimate to my unfamiliar situation. I feel like you’re one of the first people who’s genuinely shown that you care. It’s refreshing.” He pauses. “Now what about you? What was pre-Avenger Meg like?”  
  
I sigh and think for a second. “I mean, I guess I was sort of content with my life because I didn’t know any different. My best friend moved away in middle school, so I didn’t always have that close bond like you and Bucky have, but I had friends and I was fine. This locket is actually the last thing I have from her that I haven’t lost.” He frowns sympathetically at the necklace I tug on before I continue. “Overall, I was happy with my life. I didn’t really care what other people thought. I think the magazine was what broke me.” I take a breath to calm myself. “I didn’t really notice at the time, but looking back on those three and a half years of my life, it was not a good place for a teenage girl to be. It was cutthroat--one defiant move or wrong word to a jealous competitor and you were out. I was fortunate to keep the job as long as I did. Most of the execs were rude and very condescending, and they made us feel awful about ourselves.” An involuntary sob racks my body, and I quickly cover my mouth and apologize. Steve squeezes my hand and watches my face attentively. “I think I was lucky, but not that that says much. I’ve never had the same confidence in myself since. And the pressure to date! Oh my gosh, that was terrible. The other girls were all consumed with these hot male models who worked with us, and I didn’t really care because it was stupid and shallow, but there were two of them I went out with, mostly because my friends wanted to do the whole double date thing. One date each and we were through. Their names were Trevor and Zach, and they were both idiots. No one there valued education and intelligence, so I didn’t really belong.”  
  
“Well, you belong here.”  
  
I smile at Steve as he covers my hand on the concrete with his. “Really? I feel like I came in too late to properly mesh with everybody else. And you--”  
  
“Trust me, you’re doing great. We’re all sort of outcasts here. We’re a family. I know what it’s like to be confused and unaware of stuff around here. It took me a while to feel like I fit in since I spent almost seventy years trapped in that block of ice, not getting to live my life.” He takes my hand and kisses my fingers. “But maybe now I finally can.”


	11. Emotions are Chaos, and Logic is Stupid

A few weeks (and several dates) further into my battle training, Steve and I are back in the gym. He told me we’d go easier today, just doing a few sparring matches to keep my alertness up.  
  
I walk into the training room, confused at the source of noise coming from it as I come down. I stand in the doorway, leaning against one side of it, and watch Steve aggressively punch the punching bag. Suddenly it goes flying off the hook supporting it, skidding along the floor until it’s almost at my feet.  
  
“Hey, Meg,” Steve says as he picks up another punching bag off the floor.  
  
“Morning,” I reply, stepping into the room and heading in the direction of the locker rooms. “You’re here early,” I observe.  
  
“Just getting warmed up,” he says casually.  
  
“Why, to beat me up?” I joke.  
  
He rolls his eyes and smirks at me. “Oh, yeah, that’s just what I want to do.”  
  
I wink at him and open the door to the locker room, rapidly throwing on one of my typical training outfits. I throw my straightened hair into a messy ponytail and kick the door open enough that I can slip through. Steve’s still attacking the punching bag, so I sidle over to him and tap his shoulder.  
  
“Ahem,” I interrupt.  
  
He stops punching and turns around to face me. “Ready?” he asks, unwinding his wraps faster than humanly possible. Well, Steve’s superhuman, so I guess it makes sense.  
  
I duck into the boxing ring with him right on my tail. We stand in opposite corners of the square, staring each other down.  
  
“Anything goes,” Steve says. “I’m not getting the shield, but you can use your powers to try and distract me. Okay?”  
  
I nod once, trying to devise a strategy for myself. I step out into the center, getting closer to better sense when he shifts to strike. He lunges toward me with a punch, but I easily bat it away with my palm. Definitely not mentioning the bruise that gave me. I punch at him, landing one on his stomach, which provokes a small huff of pain to escape involuntarily.  
  
We continue like this, circling each other and attacking, until one falls down for several seconds. Then the fallen one stands back up, and we begin another round.  
  
After the latest of our rounds, Steve helps me up after I unskillfully lost my balance. I assure him that I’m alright and return to my corner, ready for the next fight. Before I can mentally assess my strengths and weaknesses from the previous round, I glance at Steve across the ring. His t-shirt is soaked with sweat, highlighting the defined shapes of his muscles beneath it. Oh boy. I try to shake off this observation, but now I’m distracted. Great.  
  
I dart to the center of the ring, and as Steve approaches, I aim a kick at his chest. I never feel the impact. He catches my ankle, ensnaring it in his hand. “You’ll have to do better than that, sweetheart,” Steve teases, pulling me slowly closer to him. He drops my foot suddenly and I stumble away, trying to regain my balance. Then he runs at me, fist raised for a blow. I duck out of the way just in time, my reflexes slowed by my inability to concentrate. In an attempt to roll away, I bump my head against the pole in the corner of the ring.  
  
The fight just keeps getting worse. Steve throws me roughly into the ropes lining the ring when I could have easily fought him off. As I raise my arm to deliver a strong punch, my foot slips, and I can barely recover it with a haphazard roll. I disappear, stand up, shout “I surrender!”, and dive out of the ring, feeling frustrated, embarrassed, and disheartened.  
  
Steve sits down next to me on the floor, crossing his legs and giving me his most concerned, worried face. I turn my face away. I can’t look at him.  
  
“Is everything okay?” he asks softly.  
  
I’m still staring at the floor on my opposite side from him when I answer. “I just got distracted.”  
  
“By what?”  
  
I look back to him and huff, gesturing in his direction. “You, Steven, are a very eye-catching specimen.”  
  
He bursts out laughing. “That’s why you’ve been messing up? Because of me?” I nod meekly and continue to avoid his gaze. “Wow. I’m flattered.”  
  
“You don’t think I’m shallow?” I say seriously, recovering instantly from the burst of humor.  
  
“What? No! You’re not like other people when you see me. You actually consider me a human being, not just a life-sized action figure or, in the case of my past, the tiny, inadequate guy I used to be. You meant it as a sincere compliment. And a testament to how you feel. You are my girlfriend, after all.” He winks at me and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Again, not helping my distractible brain. “But, in all fairness, don’t you think you’ve been doing the same thing to me every day we’ve trained since you show up looking like that?”  
  
I glance down at my tank top and leggings. I hadn’t really considered how he would react to my fitted clothes. “Whoops,” I say jokingly. “Sorry.”  
  
“Are you ready to quit for the day?” he asks with a small smile and a shake of his head, politely changing the subject and staying true to his word about remembering my limits. But I’m not that tired yet.  
  
“One more round?” I say innocently, giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek.  
  
\----  
  
“Okay, I think you clearly won,” Steve says as I stand over him, unsure if he will get up from the floor. He sits up and beams at me. “Nice work.”  
  
I reach out to him, and he takes my hand, pulling me close to him as he simultaneously stands up. He brushes my hair with one hand and presses his forehead to mine. “Are you okay?” I ask cautiously, hyperaware that this isn’t normal.  
  
“Just got some stuff on my mind,” he answers dully. He lets go of my hand. “I’ll see you later.” With that, he steps out of the ring and disappears, leaving me worried and befuddled.  
  
\---  
  
The sky is darkening as I wander through the tower, aimlessly taking staircases up towards the sky. Two-thirds of the way to the top, I realize that I’m heading for the top floor bridge, where you can see what’s going on below but stay relatively distant from it. It’s a good spot to think.  
  
I reach the top of the stairs and roam onto the long bridge, pausing to lean against the railing for a second. What was on Steve’s mind earlier? I think, with nothing but the dark void around me to answer. I keep walking, hoping movement will be the secret key to my discovery. I suddenly trip over some unknown object and faceplant across it, arms splayed out. What the heck?  
  
I try to sit up and figure out what I tripped over, but I don’t need to. “Hey, Meg.” It’s Steve. Apparently I’m not the only one taking a quiet refuge up here.  
  
I roll onto my knees and look around. Steve’s sitting on the bridge’s edge, legs crossed, knees pressed against the glass panes forming the railing. He leans back, a casual stance. As if he were expecting me.  
  
Without apprehension, hesitation, or general thought, I climb onto his lap. He’s taken aback, but he leans forward, framing my face with his hands. I kiss him, worried and affectionate, but he doesn’t kiss me back. He seems wistful and longing, but sad. His mouth doesn’t shape itself to mine like usual. I wrap my arms around his neck and sit up straighter. I wait for the kiss to become one of the magical ones, but it doesn’t. Steve seems resistant, resigned, making me feel that much more desperate, both for answers and his attention.  
  
He finally takes his lips off mine and speaks. “Okay, enough.” He’s never told me to stop like that before. “I’ve been thinking a lot since the night of our first date.”  
  
“So have I,” I say, scrambling off him to sit next to him and trying very hard not to sulk. “You told me about your life before the plane crash, but I just had one other question, if you’re willing to answer it.” He nods through the thick darkness at me, his features barely visible. “Did you, you know, have a girlfriend? I completely understand if you did. I won’t get jealous.”  
  
He barks a laugh. “I suppose you could say I did. Her name was Peggy Carter.” His face falls back into a mask of misery.  
  
“The Peggy Carter? As in, one of the founding agents of SHIELD?” My inner nerd is screaming right now. “She’s amazing! Legendary! She is one of the most inspiring women in history...and I actually owe a large part of my college payment to the scholarship named after her. You knew her?”  
  
Steve nods. “She was wonderful. She scared a lot of those men, but not me. She didn’t try to intimidate me. She was strong and independent, but she also believed in me. She encouraged me, empowered me when I needed it, helped make me the man I am today. I never did get to go dancing with her.” The tears begin to fall down his face, and he doesn’t bother to stop them.  
  
I scoot closer to him and lean my head against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Steve,” I whisper. “You miss her, don’t you?”  
  
He nods sadly, and we sit in silence for a few minutes. I tentatively reach my hand out toward him. He takes it cautiously, and I look into his eyes.  
  
“Would you like to dance with me, Steve?” Now I realize I’m on the brink of tears too.  
  
“I don’t know how,” he answers.  
  
“Stand up. I’ll teach you.”  
  
He gets off the floor and we move to the center of the bridge. I help him figure out his hand positioning and footsteps and we sway slowly in a circle, neither of us speaking a word for a few moments.  
  
“Meg, what’s your full name?”  
  
I am confused by this. “Megan Delaney Levesque. Why?”  
  
He gives a tiny sigh of relief. “Not Margaret.”  
  
Now I understand. We move in silence again, neither peaceful nor turbulent.  
  
I break the quiet pause. “I’m sorry,” I breathe again, laying my head on his shoulder.  
  
“So am I,” he says quietly.  
  
I jerk my head back and stare at him. “What?”  
  
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here, like this, right now. I pushed that missile into that building. I thought it was empty. I’m the reason you have powers, and because of that, I’ve put you in danger. That tops the list of reasons I shouldn’t be Captain America anymore.”  
  
“What?” I ask again, gentler this time.  
  
“Tony and I had a disagreement a while back because the UN wanted to control the Avengers more. I opposed the accords they wrote because I didn’t agree with their terms, and they gave us no time to negotiate, but I think I lost part of myself, not to mention the others’ trust and respect, in defending my personal ideas and trying to fight for what I believed in. So I put down the shield. I don’t deserve it anymore. Maybe someone with some faith in me picked it up.” He doesn’t sound hopeful. “I’m not saying I won’t still fight for the cause of justice, but I’ve tarnished the image of Captain America. The world deserves better.” His expression turns even sadder, and I can see how much pain he’s in tonight.  
  
“Better?” I squeak. I want to comfort him. “Steve, I can’t blame you. I don’t blame you. You were protecting people--your friends, your city--and you trained me to do the same. I think that makes you a hero. This is a new chance for me. Because of you, I can protect people. I’m ready for a fight.” I turn my face up and look into his eyes. “Especially when I have something to fight for.”  
  
He laughs sadly, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “Please tell me you mean this team. Don’t put that pressure on me.”  
  
I lean closer. “They’ve been like a family to me, just like you said. I wouldn’t have met anyone here if that one accident hadn’t happened. Of course I’d fight for them. And I’d fight for you.”  
  
His face falls. “Meg.” He stops moving and drops one of his arms, now holding only my hand to create an arm’s length of space between us. “I can’t-- I’m sorry, but this can’t go on any longer.”  
  
“What? What are you saying?” I demand accusingly, shocked at the sudden turn in my emotional disposition.  
  
“I’ve gotten hurt too many times because people close to me could move forward and I couldn’t. My selfish ambition tells me not to do this, but it’s the right thing, so I have to. I don’t think it’s fair to either of us to be together because….” He pauses. “Look. I don’t want to do this, but I’ve already seen people I love age and die. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have by carrying this on. We-- This isn’t going to work. You’ll grow older, and I won’t, and then my heart will shatter even more than it already has at losing you. Trust me, it’s better this way. It protects both of us from any more damage. The longer this goes on, the worse it’ll hurt in the end.”  
  
“Steve,” I plead. “Don’t do this. Aren’t you happy?”  
  
“This way is better for both of us,” he offers vaguely. I don’t take the time to think about this confusing answer.  
  
“I’ll ask Tony and Bruce to do some DNA testing or something. We don’t fully know what the accident did to me--”  
  
“Exactly! Maybe it was entirely detrimental to your system, so your suffering is on me!”  
  
Tears are gushing down my face now. “No, it’s not.” With that, I drop his hand and run out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time, not caring where I’m headed.


	12. Do Not Drive When You Are Sad

I storm through the building, sure the look on my face will deter anyone from asking questions, but I meet no one on my way to the doors. I restrain myself from punching through the glass door, though I really want to, and descend down into the garage level. I jump into the first car I can get to, a sleek black sports car, and turn the key, hearing the engine roar to life.  
  
I zoom out of the garage and onto the streets, neither paying attention to nor caring where I go. I focus now on the streams of tears trickling down my face. Why? Why?! my mind wails. I find myself sobbing on the steering wheel as I wait at a stoplight, wishing for Steve. I glance into the rearview mirror, but I am not staring into my own eyes. I’m looking at Steve’s. I bang my head on the wheel, hitting the horn and tearing up again.  
  
“Steve!” I cry as the cars in front of me start to move. I wish I’d never wished for that. It only made the pain worse. Suddenly, all inhibition conveniently leaves my body as it becomes my own again. I zigzag through the cars on the road, driving recklessly onto side streets and into alleys, trying desperately to get away from my problems.  
  
I keep doing this for quite some time. When I finally glance at the sky, it’s pitch black. I can see the blinking lights of a helicopter high in the sky. Ignoring the time, I slow down, trying to figure out where I am and what my plan is. I can’t drive endlessly. I’ll need gas, food, and sleep eventually, but more than that, I miss the tower. I miss Bucky’s playful jokes, Tony’s endless teasing, Wanda’s knowing and friendly smile. I miss Natasha’s calm but fierce demeanor, Peter’s nerdy references, Pepper’s listening ear and comforting hugs. I miss all the Avengers. If Steve doesn’t want to date me anymore, that’s fine. I’ll deal with the heartbreak and awkwardness of that in order to go back to my new family.  
  
I scan the scene around me for any signs, but it’s so dark I can only make out vague shapes. I see several shadows moving towards me. At first, I’m relieved. They could help me. But then I realize that there aren’t as many skyscrapers or lights or people around. I’ve ended up in a sketchy neighborhood.  
  
There are five guys approaching, three on my left and two on my right. I try to back the car up, but it’s difficult to maneuver. One guy makes it to the car and knocks against my window, grinning oddly at me in the low light. I’m trying very hard to fight my panic now. The guy won’t stop knocking. His buddies are calling to me, shouting and whistling, trying to draw me out of the car.  
  
I can’t hold off the panic anymore. I jolt the car forward, hoping to scatter the creeps, but they just press against the brick walls on either side and close back in as I brake. There’s no way out. I’m trapped here. My limbs start to shake and the blood rushes to my head as I realize I might have to fight my way out.  
  
A thud sounds from the top of the car. I turn around at the sound. Good news, the car isn’t dented. Bad news, I have no idea if that object or person will be my savior or my downfall. To ease my insane brain before I die, I picture Steve kneeling on top of the car, shield in hand, ready to defend me.  
  
“You stay away from her, or I will punch you off the island of Manhattan and halfway to Europe,” a low voice threatens darkly. The men start to back away, but another comes around from behind the car.  
  
“Oh yeah, tough guy?” the new creeper asks in a cocky, challenging tone. I watch in the mirror as a red, white, and blue shield zings through the air, knocking the dude over and sending the rest running away screaming. The fallen one scrambles up and sprints away.  
  
I open the door and stick my head out just as Steve drops from the top of the car, pulling himself fluidly into the driver’s seat, wedging the shield between the seat and the console, and pushing me over to the passenger side. I buckle my seatbelt hastily as he turns the car around at an unsafe speed.  
  
“It’s a good thing Tony puts trackers on all his cars,” Steve mutters as I open my mouth to ask how he found me.  
  
I nod submissively, trying to hide in the passing shadows.  
  
“You wanna tell me why you were out here?” Steve demands, gritting his teeth, his eyes leaving the road just long enough to move to me. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”  
  
“I needed to clear my head. I wasn’t thinking. I was confused and angry and upset, and I needed to get away.”  
  
“How do you think everybody else felt when they” I notice he doesn’t say we “couldn’t find you anywhere in the tower? Wanda and Peter were almost in hysterics.”  
  
“And what about you?” I retort accusingly. “Were you worried about me at all?”  
  
His expression softens, his eyebrows uncrinkling, his eyes assuming puppy dog status, as he glances at me again. “More than you know.”  
  
I stare down at my hands, palms up in my lap, and try not to feel relieved that he was concerned about me. That doesn’t change how he feels or what he said earlier.  
  
“I’m really sorry, Meg,” he whispers as if reading my thoughts. “This wasn’t the way I wanted things to go. Please understand, I just don’t want--”  
  
“Steve, I understand what you’re saying. You think I’m going to be an old lady someday, so you want to get out while you can so things don’t get any weirder or more painful than they already are--considering we’re superheroes.” I flip my hair and cross my arms stubbornly. “I’m still not sure you’re right, though.”  
  
He looks like he wants to say something to that, but he just closes his mouth for a moment. “Are you okay?” he finally asks, glancing over at me again. “Those guys didn’t do anything to you, did they?”  
  
“I’m fine,” I say, but the sound is barely audible.  
  
He says nothing else. The chorus of a catchy pop song floats through the speakers, causing me to perk up just a tad, but something in the lyrics causes Steve to turn it off just a little too forcefully. After that, the rest of the car ride passes in tense silence. As soon as we reach the compound, I jump out of the car, slamming the door behind me, and run inside. The engine revs loudly, and I turn back just long enough to watch Steve swerve around and disappear into the night. Tears prick the corners of my eyes again, and I let them go.


	13. Saved by the Science Bros

I find Bruce and Tony conversing in low voices and drinking tea at the kitchen table when I come inside.  
  
“Hey, Meg,” Bruce greets me, stunned.  
  
“Hey.” I can’t afford to waste any time. “Guys, I need your help.”  
  
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Where’s--” Bruce sets in immediately with questions, trying to find the answer.  
  
“What can we do for you?” Tony inquires, raising one eyebrow.  
  
\---  
  
“If you could not do a blood test, that’d be great, but just do whatever you need to do.” I roll my eyes.  
  
“No, we just need a cheek swab for this,” Bruce says, turning around with a Q-tip thingy in his hand. I open my mouth and he takes his cell sample. I try not to get weirded out by this. I mean, my entire life is weird now. I live with a witch, an android, two men who run around in metal suits, two spies, a super soldier (except, you know, he left), an ex-assassin, a supposed god, a guy who turns into a giant green rage creature, a teenage spider dude, and a man who flies with metal wings. We get visits from a king in a cat suit, a bunch of aliens who explore the galaxy, some tiny bug people, a time-altering wizard, the god dude’s brother, and a flying half-alien lady. Nothing should seem strange to me at this point, especially not a standard scientific procedure.  
  
Bruce passes the swab to Tony, who I guess is starting the analytical process right now. “You’re all done, so now it’s up to us,” Tony says. The two scientists know the reason I needed this test. I trusted them with that. “Don’t worry, Meg. He’ll come back.”  
  
I nod, attempting to not look worried, and back out of the lab, waving and trying not to bump into anything and thanking them for doing science at one in the morning for me. As soon as I reach the hallway, my tears spill over and stream down my face again.  
  
I sprint up to my room, hoping to avoid any and all human contact. I successfully manage to make it to my door and unlock it before anyone else enters the corridor. I fumble to open the door and squeeze through it, closing it back behind me and flopping onto my bed.  
  
After lying there facedown for a moment, I decide to turn on some music. That’s always a good idea. I turn on Pandora on my phone and crank it up, creating a pattern of activity as it cycles through lovey-dovey pop songs and heartbroken breakup ballads: dance around, lie on the bed, check my phone, stare at the wall.  
  
The next two days are spent in a similar fashion. I don’t leave my room, and Pepper, Bruce, Wanda, Tony, and Peter will take turns to deliver food to my door, give me a hug, and check how I’m doing. I tell them I’m coping as best I can, but I want to be alone. They don’t press.  
  
My sleep schedule is incredibly off-kilter right now. It’s three a.m. and I’m still awake. I’ll go to bed around five. The only constants are the music playing from my charging phone, the closed blinds, and the state of disaster. The latter refers both to the room and to myself. My hair is messy, and I’m wearing a ratty old sweatshirt over a t-shirt and shorts.  
  
I stand up from the bed as another song comes on. I like it, but I can’t sit on the bed and just listen to it right now. It feels too personal. I have to move. I start pacing, and eventually I have to take off the sweatshirt to avoid melting. I walk to the door and pick up a piece of paper under it. It’s a printout of the lab results. Bruce or Tony must have brought it by a few hours ago. I doubt I would’ve noticed. There are some pictures from the microscope analysis along with conclusive statements. I read through the print, quickly summarizing the information in my head. My body isn’t aging. My cells were preserved at their exact age as soon as those cosmetics tipped into the hot tub and combined with the foreign substance emitting from the missile. Huh. Forever twenty-one. I look at the final sentences on the report, and my heartbeat irrationally speeds up. I’ve done the same tests on Steve. The results were almost identical to yours.  
  
I can’t fully process this information or question the specifics because of the shouting. I hear indistinct yelling down the hall, the sound getting closer. Tony’s voice? And Natasha’s? I think, curious and confused. I pause the music and listen in.  
  
“Steve, where have you been?” Natasha shouts in both curiosity and accusation.  
  
“Steven Grant Rogers, what were you thinking?” Tony yells over her. He’s probably on the phone. I can’t let myself get my hopes up.  
  
“Tony, stop calling me by my full name. Despite what you may think, I’m a rational adult, and trust me, I’ve had forty-eight hours to stew over what I did. You have no idea how much I regret it.” Tony’s phone is loud.  
  
“Yeah, well, why’d you leave in the first place?”  
  
“I… I was afraid of losing her, so I broke her heart instead. Not any better, but I was scared to hurt her or myself any more than I already have.” He pauses. “Is she still there?”  
  
Ignoring the conversation, I turn around, still holding the paper in my hands and trying to wrap my head around this realization.  
  
I hear a knock on the door. I go to set the paper on the dresser, decide against it halfway through, and pivot, opening the door a crack, and suddenly Steve’s in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and making an effort to keep a straight face.  
  
“Hey.” He looks at me, every ounce of remorse he feels obvious in his eyes. I hesitate for a portion of a second and then jump into his arms, hugging him as tightly as I can. This time, he doesn’t stop himself from returning the action.  
  
“Steve, look,” I tell him, handing him the lab results as I let go of him, tears in my eyes. He takes the printout from my hand and reads over it rapidly.  
  
“I was wrong,” he whispers. He looks back at me. “Meg, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize--” He stops himself and starts over. “There’s no excuse. I didn’t do it for any noble reason; I was just trying to protect myself. I mean, I guess I also wanted you to have a normal life, but it was really just to spare myself the heartbreak of losing you eventually. I finally came to my senses and realized that it would be better to spend some time with you while you’re still around rather than closing myself off from the eventual pain, so I came back. This data makes that irrelevant, but still. I know I’m being selfish, coming back to you like this, but I would rather break my own heart than yours, and--” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “The point is, I screwed up. I won’t ask you to take me back, but please forg--”  
  
“Forgive you?” I ask, a smile spreading across my tear-streaked face. “Of course, Steve. A couple days is nothing in the face of forever.”  
  
“You can really forgive me that easily?” he breathes in disbelief, more to himself than to me, but he knows I can hear. Then he addresses me again. “But I-- I left.”  
  
“And then you came back.” I hug him again. “That’s what matters.”  
  
“I’ve hurt a lot of people trying to save them. I’ve made too many mistakes, and I don’t want any of them to hurt you in any way. I underst--”  
  
“Steve, you make mistakes because, despite whatever’s happened to you in your life, you’re still human. I love that. You’re not perfect, and that’s okay. I get that. As much as we need a patriotic hero who fights for justice, which you absolutely are, no matter what you’ve done in the past, that’s not what defines you in my eyes. You’re more than Captain America to me. You’re Steve Rogers, my favorite person in the world.” I take a breath. “You were right about one thing though. You have made a huge impact on my life since the day I got my powers. You’ve trained me, taught me, scolded me, helped me become who I am today. My life is different because of you. But it’s better.”  
  
Steve looks shocked. Then he sweeps me up in his arms, lifting my feet off the ground, and holds me close to him, kissing me, stopping only to murmur a tiny “Thank you” against my mouth. I take his face in my hands and kiss him back. This is the magical kiss I’ve been waiting for. I crush my lips to his and close my eyes, savoring the moment.  
  
When it ends, it doesn’t feel too soon as the others have. It’s perfectly timed, as if we’ve reached an understanding. Equilibrium. I’m satisfied…for now. He puts my feet back on the floor and grins down at me.  
  
“Promise me we’ll never let anything that silly get between us again,” I say breathlessly.  
  
“I will if you will too,” Steve replies. “That was pretty stupid. I didn’t have all the facts.”  
  
“Neither did I.” I hug him briefly. “But I promise.”  
  
“Then you’ll take me back?” he asks meekly, trying to tone down his evident excitement. “After I was such an idiot?”  
  
I laugh and boop his nose. “I thought it was obvious.”  
  
He pulls me in for another hug. “So...do I get to take you on another date soon?”  
  
“If you want,” I tease, shrugging and leaning my head against his chest.  
  
“Good. Tomorrow night--or I guess tonight, since it’s three o’clock in the morning--go to bed really early, because we’re leaving at midnight. We’re taking the jet to Disney World for the day.”  
  
My eyes widen and I stare up at him. “Oh my gosh, Steve!”  
  
He laughs. “It’s crazy, and the rest of the team doesn’t know, and I definitely don’t have clearance, but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? I never really got to have a full rebellious teen stage, so this is it.”  
  
  
“Which is…?”  
  
“Not something interesting like spying or anything. Just running a little pizza shop downtown. I couldn’t stand to work there forever. My older brother works there now, but I doubt that’ll be the only thing he does with his life. He’s ambitious. Besides, they’re French! They should’ve opened a pâtisserie or something like that!”  
  
“Ah, well,” he laughs, but he quickly sombers. “You should talk to them. I’ll come with you, if you want.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.” I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek. I let my next words out without any thought. “Je t’aime [I love you].”  
  
My eyes grow wide as I realize what I said. I expect him to make some witty, sarcastic comment; instead, he hugs me tightly for a minute, as if afraid to let go. “Je t’aime aussi [I love you too].” He relaxes, takes my hand, and kisses it. Classic gentleman. I can’t tell if his gestures or his words are what’s making me swoon. “Au revoir [goodbye].”  
  
“Attends [wait]!” I cry, reaching for him as he tries to leave. He hovers, halfway out the door, head turned back toward me. “Don’t leave again. You just got here,” I plead, playing pitiful.  
  
He sighs exaggeratedly and comes back in, sitting down on the bed and motioning for me to follow. I sit down next to him, but he pulls me onto his lap and cradles me against him. I feel completely content.  
  
“I really am sorry,” I say. “It was a stupid decision to begin with. But I really should’ve just turned into some random person to throw those creeps off.”  
  
He laughs. “I bet it would’ve worked on those morons, but don’t beat yourself up about it. We’ve all done dumb stuff, but the point is, it’s in the past. You can’t keep dwelling on it. Besides, I know you can hold your own, but I don’t mind helping you out once in a while. If you need me, I’ll be there.” He kisses me softly to punctuate his point.  
  
“And the shield?” I query when I can speak again.  
  
“Somebody who believed in me picked it up and brought it back to wait for the right time,” he answers, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “He just needed some...convincing that I was ready to take it back. I guess he deemed your safety worthy of returning it.”  
  
I nod contentedly and curl up against him, suddenly feeling sleepy. “I believe in you.”  
  
“I know you do.”  
  
I yawn. “Do you have a plan for our date, or is it kind of a free-for-all?”  
  
Steve smirks at me. “I’ve got it all worked out. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
I smile up at him, not worried at all. It’s Steve. I can trust him. I’ve always known that, but tonight, I realized that I love him too.  
  
With that final thought, my eyes flutter closed, and I’m fast asleep.


	14. You Know What They Say About Taking Your Date to Disney World...

I wake up with my blankets tucked snugly around me. I wiggle out of the burrito and sit up, yawning and stretching. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, which is honestly not a big deal to me: a light blue t-shirt with Captain America’s shield printed on it (yes, I’m that nerd) with soft black lounge shorts. I stand up slowly, trying to hold my balance, and go to the bathroom to fix my hair. After sweeping it up into a messy bun, I walk down to the kitchen, where the whole team is gathered.  
  
I snatch a granola bar out of the pantry and lean against the counter, accompanied by several greetings. “Are you serious?” Wanda exclaims as she sees me. “That’s adorable. Steve, look.” He looks up at me as I glance down at my shirt, remembering what’s printed on it. I grin goofily across the room at him and blow him a kiss.  
  
Tony looks over at me, at Steve, back to me, back to Steve, his eyes the size of saucers. He seems at a loss for words. “Those are the same clothes from yesterday…. You two-- Did you...fond--”  
  
“Nope! Nope, nope, nope!” Steve practically sings, determined not to let Tony finish his sentence.  
  
Tony smirks at whatever idea he’s put into Steve’s head as Steve walks around the room to put his arms around me. “Well, at least you’re back from your little vacation.” Steve shoots him a menacing glare across the kitchen.  
  
“Last night you said you loved me,” I whisper, putting my hand on his face and drawing his attention back to me.  
  
“And I’ve never been more honest in my life,” he breathes, stroking my hair once. “You told me the same thing.”  
  
“You know it’s true,” I answer with a grin. “I hate to lie, especially to people I care about.”  
  
“Then you’d make a terrible spy,” he jokes.  
  
I make a dramatically offended face. “There is a difference between lying and playing a part, my good sir.”  
  
“Now that everybody’s here,” Clint begins, clearing his throat and glaring pointedly at me (to which I just smile), “we can get started.”  
  
“As you know, a few weeks ago, several of us went on a scouting trip to Wakanda to determine what the foreign substance found there was,” Natasha states. “We discovered that it was not anything we’ve encountered before, so we are facing a whole new threat. Those of us that went before are checking out NASA today to gather as much information as we can. Further scouting will be done with the whole team as needed in the future. My team needs to be ready in an hour.”  
  
“We’re going to NASA? No way! That’s awesome!” Peter exclaims, pumping his fist excitedly.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere, buddy,” Tony answers without pause. “Not yet, at least.”  
  
“Aw, come on!” Peter complains. “These are the dudes who build rockets and satellites and rovers and cool stuff like that! That’s my thing, Mr. Stark!”  
  
I catch Peter’s eye as he rambles on about space. He winks and nods at me, so I use his speech as an opportunity to edge out of the room and get back to other things.  
  
\---  
  
My alarm goes off at 11:45 at night. I groggily rub my eyes and force myself to sit up in the giant bed. I jump, catlike, out of the bed and run to my enormous closet, where I don my chosen outfit (a Star Wars t-shirt, jean shorts, and Captain America shield Converse [yes, of course I own some!]). I rush to the bathroom to figure out my hair and brush my teeth again. When Steve comes knocking at the door, I’m sticking my phone, wallet, baseball cap, and sunglasses in my purse. I sling my purse over my shoulder and sprint to the door, flinging it open breathlessly.  
  
Steve glances down at my outfit and shuts his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”  
  
“What? I’m allowed to dress like a nerd; it’s Disney.”  
  
“You’re a little conspicuous,” he chuckles, pointing to my feet.  
  
“Nobody’ll know it’s you,” I answer. “Sunglasses?”  
  
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Meg. I know how to stay hidden.” He checks his watch. “Are you all ready?”  
  
I thumb through my purse once more, making sure I have everything. “Money, sunglasses, hat, phone…Yep, that’s everything. Let’s go!”  
  
We dash through the halls of the facility until we round the corner to the jet hangar. Steve ushers me inside and follows me in, closing the doors and flicking switches on until the lights come up. I take a seat next to him in the co-pilot’s chair as he maneuvers the vessel out of the building and into the air.  
  
“I put some blankets in here in case you want to take a nap,” Steve explains, taking one hand off the controls to point behind us. “It’ll be a couple hours before we land.”  
  
“What about you?” I ask, trying to hide my yawn with my hand. “Aren’t you tired?”  
  
“I slept for nearly seventy years in an oversized ice cube. I don’t think one night on four hours of sleep is going to kill me.”  
  
“Is that your excuse for everything?” I laugh, playfully hitting his arm.  
  
“Maybe.” He grins. “But can you fly this thing?”  
  
I raise one eyebrow. “Good point.” I stand up and pick up a blanket from the pile, pulling my feet into the seat and covering myself as I sit back down. “What’s the plan for today?”  
  
Steve looks at me for a few seconds, smiling to himself. “I may have called in a few favors and used the ‘I’m an Avenger’ trick that Clint likes to pull. We’re going shopping when we get there” he catches my excited smile “and then we basically have FastPasses for anything we want, at any time, in all the parks, all day. I didn’t know what you would want for food though, so we can figure that out when we get there. Sound good?”  
  
“That sounds perfect!” I cry enthusiastically. I suddenly yawn again.  
  
“You should sleep some more,” Steve says, reaching over to take my hand in his.  
  
“Okay,” I say. “Wait, one more question.”  
  
I ask Steve to explain why Tony keeps talking about fondue. He laughs and details the origin story of the joke (blushingly, I notice), which in turn makes me laugh. I fall asleep smiling, eagerly awaiting the dawn and the exciting day it brings.  
  
\---  
  
“Meg?” Steve whispers softly.  
  
I take my head off the chair’s arm and sit up, stretching. I check my reflection in the window, making sure my hair isn’t a complete disaster from sleeping on it. For once, it actually behaved itself.  
  
“I’m awake, I promise,” I mutter, yawning again.  
  
“We’re here,” Steve says in response.  
  
“We are?!” I exclaim, spasming and knocking the blanket to the floor. Steve, kneeling on the floor beside me, picks it up and puts it back on the table it came off of. He grabs my purse and tosses it to me as I stand up. I catch the strap and put it on. He opens the doors and takes my hand, and we walk together off the jet.  
  
“Uh, Steve, where exactly are we?” I ask as we exit the jet and step out onto the pavement.  
  
“We’re at the airport. There’s a bus coming in just a few minutes that will take us to Disney Springs, and we’ll take another one to the first park we decide to visit when we’re done there.”  
  
“Oh. Okay, that makes sense.” I exhale in relief.  
  
“No, I did not get us stranded in Florida, Meg,” he says exasperatedly, as if reading my mind. “I told you, I got everything planned out. Are you ready?”  
  
“Of course I am!” I answer excitedly, forgetting the panic I’d felt less than a minute ago.  
  
“Then let’s go!” he cries, taking my hand and leading me through the airport. It feels like we’re two excited children left without adult supervision. We sprint all the way to the bus line, where nobody’s waiting. Of course not. It’s three a.m. A tired-looking man stands at the little podium-like table by the gate.  
  
“Are you the ones the bus is waiting for?” he drones boredly, staring at us dully.  
  
“Yep, that’s us,” I answer in a chipper tone, flashing him a winning smile. He grimaces sourly at me and opens the gate.  
  
“Enjoy,” he says in his monotone voice.  
  
“Well, he wasn’t very nice,” I huff in a whisper as we exit the glass doors.  
  
“You’re pretty energetic for the middle of the night,” Steve counters with a laugh.  
  
“Okay, fair. But still...”  
  
\---  
  
“I’ve already spent a couple hundred dollars, Steve. You might at least try to stop me before we have to sell the jet to a stranger to pay for all this stuff,” I say as we walk out of another store into the early morning sunlight, our arms loaded with shopping bags.  
  
“Come on, Meg. I can’t do that,” Steve says, stopping suddenly. I pivot to face him and almost trip over my own feet in doing so. “I came prepared for this.”  
  
My eyebrows furrow, and I look at him with extreme skepticism. “Where exactly would you get-- You know what, never mind.”  
  
“You do know SHIELD pays us, right? Well, whatever’s left of SHIELD. Fury and Hill are working to rebuild it with our help.” He lightly kisses my lips, making me drop several of my bags. He smirks with satisfaction at my reaction. “Plus, I recently realized that I’ve got a bank account that’s been gathering interest for almost a century. I got this. I’m all for doing things of questionable legality on occasion, but we will not be stealing from Disney World.”  
  
“But you would cheat to get passes and everything.”  
  
Steve just laughs. “It’s okay. They aren’t going to arrest us for slightly cheating at Disney World on short notice.” He touches my nose and bends down to get my fallen packages. “Now, are you ready for this?”  
  
“Heck yeah!” I shout, jumping into the air. I take my stuff back, digging through the bags until I find the new Minnie Mouse ears I bought. I put them on my head and grin at Steve. “Where to first?”  
  
We visit Animal Kingdom first, stopping at a small cafe for breakfast. We ride the Avatar rides, the water rides, and Expedition Everest within an hour afterward. We also watch the Lion King show and walk around the park, pausing every so often to snap some pictures or buy souvenirs like t-shirts and pins.  
  
Next we visit Epcot. We ride the few rides there and stroll through all the different countries, sampling food from around the globe instead of eating a full lunch. I get very excited when we reach France, and both of us start energetically jabbering away in the language, much to the confusion of our fellow tourists. We buy macaroons and croissants and watch the world from a bench as we eat them.  
  
Once we’re done exploring the world, we go to Hollywood Studios. We have to remove our disguises for the Rockin’ Roller Coaster and the Tower of Terror so we don’t lose them. Luckily, we’re able to stay hidden with a few secretive fingers to our lips at the kids who notice. Later, we watch the stormtroopers march through the streets on our way to Star Wars and Toy Story Lands. Surprisingly, I manage to beat Steve at the Toy Story shooting game. When I tell him this, he just punches me in the arm with a goofy grin. At this point, my feet are getting tired, so Steve offers to carry me on his back as we walk back across the park to watch the Beauty and the Beast show. It feels exactly like I imagined going to Disney with your high school boyfriend would feel--but I guess only one of those factors is wrong in my case.  
  
We take the bus to Magic Kingdom, our final stop of the day. It’s mid-afternoon, so the sun is hot and bright on us as we easily pass by another long line through the gates. We walk out into the square, holding hands and chattering excitedly, when I suddenly spot someone across the street from us. The woman has curly red hair, and she’s dressed in all black, including dark sunglasses. As I watch, she takes one hand off her coffee cup and raises it to her ear, her lips moving quickly.  
  
“Shhh-- Steve, it’s Natasha,” I hiss, pulling him away in an attempt to get as far away from her as possible.  
  
“Relax, Meg. Let’s just go in here to get a snack,” Steve suggests, pointing to the ice cream shop we’re right next to. I nod in agreement and follow him inside, temporarily turning into the girl walking next to me to blend in (purple hair can be kinda conspicuous).  
  
When we reemerge with our ice cream, she’s gone. Relieved, we start to walk slowly through the park, stopping in little shops and dancing weirdly to the music playing through the speakers. Once our food is finished, we jump in line after line after line to ride everything: Space Mountain, Splash Mountain, The Seven Dwarfs’ Mine Train, Pirates of the Caribbean, It’s a Small World, Peter Pan, The Little Mermaid, The Haunted Mansion, Big Thunder Mountain. The list is endless. We stop for dinner at the Be Our Guest restaurant, based on one of my personal favorite movies. Inside, I don’t see Natasha again, but instead something that makes me more panicky. I see a man who is very obviously Tony Stark across the room, trying to stare inconspicuously at the wall and seem thoughtful instead of stalkerish. Thankfully he doesn’t see us. I point him out to Steve, who just laughs and takes my hand.  
  
“Who cares if they find us here? At least it wasn’t earlier in our perfect day. And since this was technically my idea, you’re not in danger of anyone’s wrath.”  
  
I ponder that for half a second. “I went right along with it though. But you’re right, it doesn’t matter if they catch us. So if you don’t care, that means I can do this.” I lean in closer to him and kiss him, suddenly not worried about who’s watching.  
  
Steve is taken aback when he can talk again. “Dang.” I giggle and turn back to my dessert, shoving a bite into my mouth with an oversized grin.  
  
When we’re done eating, the sun is sinking toward the horizon and the air is cooler than before. We walk around the park some more, stopping in stores, riding more rides, watching the shows, taking more pictures. We eventually make it back to the castle, where a crowd is gathering to watch the fireworks show. We approach the grassy section where the other people are sitting, but as the music cues up, Steve leads me away from the mass of people and toward the edge of the path. We stand beneath a lantern, and he smiles at me. “Can I get a redo of that first dance?” he inquires.  
  
My face turns up into a smile. “Of course,” I answer, holding back a sudden rush of tears. He takes my hands and pulls me in closer as the colorful lights burst over our heads. We spin and twirl in our private spotlight as the light show goes on. I don’t comment on the singular tear I feel land in my hair.  
  
As the last firework fizzles out, I lay my head against Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper. “This has been the most magical day ever.”  
  
“Hah!” a voice crows from somewhere outside the small circle of light. I look up frantically, eyes wild, and spot Sam in the shadows.  
  
“Come on, man,” Steve complains when he sees Sam.  
  
“We were having a moment,” I specify, glaring at my fellow Avenger.  
  
“You’ve had at least twelve moments today,” another voice pipes up from behind me. Natasha.  
  
“Like that little kissing scene in the restaurant?” Tony adds, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at me.  
  
The crowd is starting to glance our way. “Guys, keep it down,” I command through gritted teeth. We start walking toward the gate, but then the team starts talking about the different rides they want to ride, and suddenly we’re breezing through ten more lines and stopping for churros on our way out.  
  
The bus ride back to the airport is not as awkward as I expected. The others try to chew us out for leaving with no explanation, taking the jet, and just coming to Disney World without them, but we eventually convince them to leave us alone. At the airport, Tony insists that Steve and I be accompanied on our jet since we’re running on so little sleep, so Natasha, Bruce, Sam, and Peter follow us onto it. Natasha insists on flying (Steve did only get four hours of sleep, and no ice jokes are gonna convince her), so Peter sits up front with her and talks to her. The rest of us sit down on the floor behind them. I’m suddenly unbelievably tired. I curl up on the ground and fall fast asleep, ignoring Sam’s quiet jokes and questions as I lose consciousness.


	15. Midnight...Perfect Time for a Motorcycle Ride

The plane lands with the tiniest of jolts, but it’s enough to wake me up. I stand groggily, trying not to lose my balance, and stretch my stiff muscles. We leave the jet and wish each other good night, heading our separate ways to get some sleep. I hug Steve goodbye and walk back to my room, expecting to crash instantly. Instead, I sit on my bed, playing with my new trinkets in my hands as I try to recall strategies for falling asleep better. I finally give up and snatch my phone off the nightstand, opening it to my text messages. I hesitate for a moment. Whatever. I click Steve’s name and type in one short message: Can’t sleep.  
  
His response is almost instantaneous. Me neither. Do you want to take a ride on my motorcycle?  
  
I didn’t even know he had a motorcycle. I guess there are always surprises to discover with this team. I tell him I’ll meet him in the garage in a few minutes and hop lightly off the bed. I change clothes (I’m still wearing the Disney outfit) into jeans and a raspberry-colored t-shirt and stick my feet into my combat boots, tying them loosely. I take my hair out of its ponytail and try to comb out the weird lines left in it from the elastic. Satisfied, I open the door, check that no one’s coming, and run out of my room.  
  
Steve’s waiting for me when I reach the garage. He stands, leaning against his motorcycle with a smirk on his face, as I open the glass door and squeeze through.  
  
“Too hyper?” he asks as I stop in front of him.  
  
“Maybe, or maybe it was all those naps I took on the plane,” I retort, poking his elbow.  
  
He laughs at me and reaches behind him for something lying across the bike’s seat. I hadn’t noticed it in the darkness until now. He passes it to me. “Put this on,” Steve says. I hold it up and try to look at it in the dark. “Don’t worry. I already confirmed that it’s not ugly.” I snort. He knows me so well. “I actually took it from Peter and Wanda. It’s part of your--”  
  
“Uniform,” I breathe, mentally kicking myself for forgetting about it. I shrug the jacket over my arms and zip it halfway. “Thanks, Steve.”  
  
“No problem.” He moves and gets on the motorcycle, motioning for me to follow as he picks up a helmet from the other side. Suddenly frightened, I edge slowly closer until I can swing my right leg over the seat.  
  
“Am I on this thing right?” I ask, uncertain about what I’m doing.  
  
“You’re fine,” Steve assures me. “But you might want to hold on.”  
  
He hands me the helmet and checks that I put it on, putting on his own (at my chastising) as I wrap my arms tightly around his torso.  
  
“Ready?” Steve asks as he revs the engine.  
  
“Yeah!” I shout over the roaring sound, wondering how the others can sleep through this.  
  
The garage door opens smoothly, and we zoom out into the late night streets of New York.  
  
The first thing I notice is the speed. We’re going just as fast as any car, but it feels far beyond that. We’re moving so fast my hair flies and tangles around the helmet. It’s also really loud. Even though there aren’t a ton of cars around, it’s still noisy from the wind created by our speed.  
  
It almost feels like a roller coaster--like I lost my stomach when we took off and now I’m accustomed to the high speeds. I tighten my arms around Steve as I think about how fast we’re going. I don’t want to fall off and end up as a purple-haired smear on the pavement.  
  
We fly past big, brightly-lit buildings, and I can’t stop the smile from creeping up my face. This is exhilarating! We drive another block, round the corner, and do the whole thing again. And again. And again.  
  
I don’t notice the familiarity of the streets until we’re slowing down in front of the tower. The garage door opens as we approach, and Steve parks the bike perfectly in its spot.  
  
I force my muscles to relax so I can let go of him. I pull the helmet off my head and shake out my hair as he turns to grins at me.  
  
“What’d you think?” Steve asks eagerly.  
  
“That. Was. Awesome,” I state. “We absolutely have to do that again.” I get off the motorcycle and set the helmet down on the concrete. Steve stands up too and grabs my wrists, kissing me gently. “Thanks,” I add when he steps back again.  
  
“You are absolutely welcome,” he replies.  
  
I take the jacket off. “Do they need this back?” I ask.  
  
Steve takes it from me. “Probably. Good night, Meg.”  
  
“Night,” I say with a wave as I walk back out of the garage.


	16. Tricking NASA Shouldn't Be That Hard

I sleep in late the next morning. When I finally open my eyes, I roll over and pick up my phone. A text from Steve pops up on the screen: Good morning, sunshine. I smile and pull myself out of bed to get ready.  
  
I walk down to the kitchen, same as every morning, but I’m nervous. How much scolding am I going to have to take for yesterday’s escapade?  
  
I feel like a child about to walk in on a room full of all her authority figures, trying to shrink down so the shouting hurts less. But when I enter the kitchen, everyone’s talking jovially over a gigantic breakfast of cinnamon rolls, chocolate chip muffins, omelets, bacon, and fresh berries. I tiptoe in, fearful that my presence will remind everyone why they should be mad at me.  
  
Peter jumps up from his seat and high fives me. Natasha looks up, eyes following her fellow spider, and her mouth twists into a sly smile. “Look who it is,” she says in a low voice.  
  
All the other heads in the room turn towards me. “Well, the brilliant escape artist finally graces us with her presence,” Tony teases.  
  
“For the record, none of that was my idea. I just followed Steve’s plan, and it was unbelievably fun,” I answer, turning away to face the counter. I hear someone else try to say something, but I just stop whoever it is by adding, “Can I get my food in peace before I get the full-on interrogation?”  
  
I fill up my plate and walk to the table, where I hungrily start on my breakfast. “You may proceed with the obnoxiousness now,” I say to Tony across the table. I hear someone snort and look up from my plate to see Steve cleaning up a small puddle of coffee from his spit take. His eyes give away his laughter. I bite my lip and smile at him before turning my attention back to the others.  
  
“Interrogation is not on the agenda for today, Meg,” Natasha says, leaning forward on her elbows. “Although while we’re on the subject, let me just say that date-crashing was pretty fun yesterday.” She catches an amused but silencing look from Rhodey. “Okay, shutting up now.”  
  
Rhodey clears his throat, and all of us look at him. “We’re going back to NASA today to check their records on whatever’s invading.” The assembly nods, awaiting further instruction. “Wear civilian clothes, but bring your weapons just in case.”  
  
“It’s always good to be prepared,” Clint agrees.  
  
“Be ready quick, team!” somebody else shouts. Everyone jumps up and runs off in their separate directions. I cram my last blueberries into my mouth as I sprint to my room to change clothes.  
  
I throw open the closet and slip on some skinny jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel. In the bathroom, I braid my hair in front of the mirror so it hangs loosely over my shoulder. I pull on a pair of socks, some (solid-colored) Converse, and a matching crocheted beanie. Just in case (and to keep up appearances), I snatch up my lanyard with my house key and put it around my neck before opening the door.  
  
Wanda’s running down the hall as I open the door. “Beep beep! Special delivery!” she cries, placing a folded pile of clothes in my arms as she races past. “Try it on later!”  
  
I glimpse the leather jacket on top of the stack and smile faintly. It has tiny, pale pink studs decorating the lapels. I never would have thought of it, but it’s a cute and fun addition. Extra enemy distraction in battle.  
  
Shaking myself out of my stupor, I toss the uniform onto the bed and sprint out of my room. I find most of the team gathered around the kitchen table, waiting for everyone, taking inventory, and devising a strategy and a cover story.  
  
Peter is the last one into the room, arriving right before Natasha says, “Alright, team, let’s go.” I give Peter a discreet high five as he passes and we all make our way to the jet and to DC.


	17. Next Up: Operation Awkward

Our cover is a college class. Clint and Bruce are posing as co-professors (is that even a thing?) from a nearby community college, and we’re all supposed to be their students. The concept seems shaky to me at best, but I don’t question it. I don’t want to be the one to screw up the whole operation.  
  
We’re all unarmed because thankfully we remembered the metal detectors right before we got off the jet. If we hadn’t, our covers would be blown, and we’d be outta there. Vision temporarily adopts his human disguise for the mission, and I catch Wanda flick a tiny spark of magic at the guard as they pass through.  
  
One of the NASA technicians is giving us a brief tour of the facility, showing us the labs and talking about what they’ve been researching recently. It’s a lot of information about telescopes and satellites and rovers. I get the gist of it, but my attention is not fully on the tour guide. Rather, it’s not entirely on processing what he says for its academic purposes. We’re all listening closely for anything he says about aliens or foreign matter or something like that. When he offhandedly mentions interdimensional portals, I detect Tony and Natasha inching away in my periphery. They’re about to go locate the main computers, search the database, and find intel on these strange alien portals, which must be the key to our issue. The rest of us are just on surveillance and distraction patrol.  
  
The tour guide concludes our lesson then, graciously (and, unbeknownst to him, helpfully) offering that we explore the building more. Once he leaves, Sam divides the group, and we separate, splitting up to find any guards or suspicious scientists who might get in our way.  
  
Steve and I are tasked with guarding the hallway to the lab Tony and Natasha are in. It’s open at both ends, and the door--the only one in the vicinity--is right in the middle. We station ourselves at either end, ready to meet in the middle at a moment’s notice.  
  
After several minutes of watching, I notice three researchers at the far end of the next hall, clustered together and walking our way. I immediately pivot around and start towards the door halfway down the hall, deliberately scuffing the sole of my sneaker on the floor so it squeaks loudly. This alerts Steve to our predicament. He turns and speeds toward me with resolve.  
  
“How many are coming?” Steve asks me as he tries to stand in a casual stance.  
  
“There are three of them,” I answer. Their voices are getting louder and more distinct as we stand guard. I can now distinguish the two women’s individual voices from each other and the man’s.  
  
“They’re getting closer. We need a diversion.”  
  
I stare into his face. “Kiss me.”  
  
Steve laughs. “I’ve heard that one before….”  
  
“Steve, please!” I hiss through gritted teeth, panicked and desperate. “Just do it! PDA scares people away!”  
  
He smirks at me. “If you insist.”  
  
He puts his hands on the sides of my face and pulls me closer, crushing his lips against mine. I close my eyes and stand up on my toes, pressing my lips harder to his as my hands find their way into his soft blond hair.  
  
The oncoming footsteps, which were getting louder and clearer just a second ago, stop just a few feet away from us. We stop kissing and let go of each other, trying to act confused and abashed. The three NASA workers stand in front of us, shifting their feet awkwardly.  
  
“Um, excuse us, we need to get into this lab,” one of them, a tiny woman with deep black hair, barely older than me, says shyly, pointing one small finger at the door behind us. I vaguely register the other girl whispering in the man’s ear about us “pesky, unprofessional college students”. Well, at least our cover stayed intact. I have to tell myself this to keep from rolling my eyes at her.  
  
“I think I heard someone say that this lab was getting cleaned right now,” Steve makes up, glancing apologetically at the scientist who asked. “You probably don’t want to go in--”  
  
“This room got cleaned an hour ago,” the other woman cuts in harshly. “Now let us through!”  
  
Steve looks at me and gives an infinitesimal nod. “No can do. Sorry about this, guys,” I say to them.  
  
I step closer to the rude woman as she starts to approach, undoubtedly to force past me. I punch her in the stomach and knee her in the gut for good measure, causing her to double over, one hand clutching her abdomen. I grab her other hand and spin her around, her back hitting the wall. As she tries to stand back up, I hook my foot around her ankle and pull her leg out from under her. The impact of hitting the floor knocks her out cold, and she stays on the ground.  
  
I whip back around to face the rest of the fight. Steve’s going at it with the man, who seems to have some sort of self-defense training that has kept him safe thus far. The other woman, on Steve’s right side, is slowly edging away from the fight, touching the wall in an attempt to hide herself. The two men are moving too much and too fast for me to squeeze past them in the narrow corridor, so I shift my weight backward, fall to the floor, and slide between them to the other side. I run to the girl in four quick bounds, ramming her shoulder into the wall. She moans and slides toward the floor, and my compassion overrides the need for total protection of our operations. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I kneel next to her. “I won’t hurt you any more if you can promise not to say a word about this to anyone. Okay?” She nods silently, and I step away just as Steve knocks the man to the ground. I walk back over to him.  
  
“Nicely done,” he says, giving me a high five. “Your training served you well.” I smile at him and entwine my fingers with his, lowering our hands. “Although...are you sure that was a good idea?” He nods toward the woman still conscious to my left.  
  
“She was scared, and she wasn’t aggressive at all. I saw no reason to hurt her once I realized that.” I flex my right hand, feeling guilty enough about possibly damaging her shoulder. “Compassion can play a role in battle too.”  
  
Steve ponders this for a second and seems to agree. He turns to the scientist. “You can go. This lab should be vacated shortly.”  
  
The woman gets to her feet and walks off, leaving us alone with the two unconscious researchers. We return to our position in front of the door, back to standing guard. I decide to abandon my question of why he reacted to my plan the way he did. A shared look leads us to the same conclusion on what to do next, and thus, an intense make-out session ensues.  
  
Luckily, no one else comes our way (maybe they were just deterred to another path by the smooching college kids). Unfortunately though, there is no warning before Tony and Natasha swing the heavy but silent door open, catching sight of us before we can compose ourselves.  
  
“Professional,” Natasha says sarcastically, popping her gum right next to my ear.  
  
We break apart suddenly, arms still around each other, to stare in wide-eyed shock at our coworkers.  
  
“That was…. Wow. All I can say is wow. How long have you two been doing that?” Tony chimes in. “To think, much longer, and you would’ve been in….”  
  
“Shut up,” I shoot at him, clenching my jaw as we start down the hallway. “At least we kept anybody from disturbing you.”  
  
“Would you have even noticed if they passed through?” Tony asks snidely. He then notices the two unconscious technicians on the floor. I raise my eyebrows but otherwise ignore him, falling back next to Natasha.  
  
“You’re not the first to think of that plan, but I gotta say, it was better than the last time,” Natasha says casually.  
  
“Yeah, he mentioned that,” I sigh. I turn my gaze to her face. “Was it you, I assume?”  
  
She shrugs. “Yeah. Crowded shopping mall, escalator. We were being followed by Hydra agents. Hostile SHIELDs,” she supplies. “I teased him a fair amount about that kiss.” She sighs at the nostalgia and goes quiet.  
  
We walk in silence for a few minutes, Tony and Steve several feet ahead, deeply engrossed in their own conversation. My eyes fixate upon the two of them and I find myself walking in a daze.  
  
“He’s lucky to have you,” Natasha says quietly, snapping me back to reality. I look over at her curiously. “He’s been on his own for too long. Adjusting to this century’s been rough for him, and he’s gotten a little too reckless with his own life when it comes to protecting other people’s. I think he’s afraid of forming close ties with people, too, or making plans and promises he can’t fulfill.”  
  
“I know that from experience,” I whisper. Her eyes search my face, and it’s like she can see into my soul. I have no choice but to spill the beans. “A few…days ago, he tried to break up with me because he thought things wouldn’t work out because of the whole ‘eternally young supersoldier’ deal,” I choke out, the subject still sort of sore in my mind. “It was a rough night. I got into some trouble, but of course Steve was there to save me when I needed it. That’s why I wouldn’t come out of my room for two days.”  
  
“Aw, no,” Natasha complains. “Are you serious? Then what was that?” she adds, throwing one hand back in the direction we came from.  
  
“I got Bruce and Tony to test some cell samples, and they got the results back to me really fast, so we made up when he came back. Fixed everything. There was a lot of hugging and crying and apologizing and all that good stuff.”  
  
“And Disney was your apology gift?” Natasha asks knowingly, raising one eyebrow suspiciously.  
  
It’s my turn to shrug. “More or less.”  
  
“That’s cute,” she teases, lightly punching my arm. She quickly turns somber again. “Take care of him, okay? I might not show it often, but I really do care...about both of you. You’re family.”  
  
My eyes tear up, and I offer her a small smile. “I will, Natasha. Thank you.”


	18. People Ask Some Really Weird Questions Before Delivering Bad News

After a moment of silence, she grins mischievously at me. “What exactly do you see in him? Not to be rude, I just want to know.”  
  
“So many things,” I breathe. “At first, I was just shocked because of how hot he is--not...not because I’m shallow, but, you know, just because I’d never talked to him, and that was my first impression,” I squeak. “He was kind of intimidating at first too. But he really cares. He doesn’t shy away from emotional issues, and he listens to whatever I have to say. He doesn’t put me down if I ask questions about his life or take all the movie theater popcorn or tell stupid jokes or mess up when I’m cooking. I’m allowed to be silly and awkward and…myself with him. He gets me; he even listens to my nerdy rambling when most other people wouldn’t. And he’s always honest about things, but in a nice way, and he’s not afraid to be vulnerable and real with me. Plus, he also knows French, so we can have secret conversations about other people too. Or cute romantic confessions, if, ya know....” I wink and laugh at the idea.  
  
“Hm, I see.” Another moment of silence passes. “So what, you’re just going to become some immortal super couple or something? That’s definitely kinda weird, so I have to ask.”  
  
I laugh, reveling in the change in how I feel about the issue. “I honestly have no idea, Nat. I guess we’ll just see how it goes.”  
  
That doesn’t stop her. “So if you have kids, are they actually going to grow? Will they forever be babies? Will they age like normal people? Or will they grow up until ‘the golden age’ or whatever you call where you’re at and look more like your supermodel siblings than your children?”  
  
  
“What did the test results say?” Natasha asks, her voice becoming soft and sympathetic.  
  
“My cells aren’t aging. That’s all I know. I didn’t think that would change anything else, but now I don’t know….”  
  
“Okay, ladies, I hate to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but we have an emergency at HQ. FRIDAY alerted me that we have some...visitors,” Tony interjects, his tone shifting from sarcastic to serious as he puts an end to our discussion. “Let’s round up the team and get out of here.”  
  
We pick up our walking pace as Tony alerts the rest of the team of our departure. We reach the front doors to find everyone else gathered there, waiting for us. They all follow us out of the building and to the jet as fast as possible.  
  
“Were you listening?” I ask Steve when we sit down on the jet. My face scrunches up in embarrassment.  
  
“Not at all,” he jokes, heavy on the sarcasm. His smile fades back into a look of seriousness before he speaks again. “I heard what you said, Meg. Thanks for all of your compliments. I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit, because I could’ve said all the same things about you. And the other thing… Your uncertainty is nothing to be ashamed of. There aren’t really many other people like us, so you could be expected to be curious and concerned. No matter what, it won’t change how I feel about you. But I think it might be best if we save that particular question for another time,” Steve says, poking me playfully with one finger.  
  
“Okay.” My face flushes, and I’m grateful for the end of the conversation. At least he understood what I was struggling with.  
  
“What did we find out?” Bucky asks loudly, probably to cover up the awkward couple drama that just happened.  
  
Natasha stands up and faces the rest of us. “As it turns out, we have no experience with or data on whatever creatures we’ve been tracing. The data we collected today was a record of portals between universes opening, so our best guess is that these creatures come from a different universe. We need to be prepared for this unfamiliar threat, and soon.”  
  
“In fact, we had to cut the op a little short because we’ve got company,” Tony adds. “FRIDAY notified me that we have some unexpected guests at the facility.”


	19. The Universe Exploded and Brought Us Twins and My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get funky. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, you get introduced to another OC (created by my friend), and she's gonna stick around for a while.

Everyone begins to converse and theorize about what awaits us back home. Once we arrive, we disembark and head for the upper floors, suiting up hurriedly before venturing further in search of the mysterious intruders. I’m grateful that all the clothes Wanda threw at me earlier fit, and she and Peter thought of fingerless gloves to protect my knuckles when I sock the intruders in the jaws.  
  
There are seven people gathered in an uncomfortable cluster in the center of the dark room when we find them. They look over to where we stand in the doorway, their expressions ranging from curiosity to confusion to fear.  
  
“Um, where are we?” a sassy female voice asks from the opposite side of the huddle. Our team advances further into the room.  
  
“You’re trespassing in the Avengers’ headquarters,” Tony answers darkly, clanking quietly and flicking on a light as he passes the switch. “State your names and business, and we’ll consider what to do with you.” He’s already moving closer, as if to fight.  
  
“This isn’t Avengers Tower. Where’s JARVIS?” the girl retorts. No one answers her.  
  
The light must be playing a trick on my eyes. Standing across the room from me are exact replicas--well, younger versions--of Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, and Thor Odinson. The original six Avengers. Only one seems out of place.  
  
The girl who spoke before steps away from the huddled grouping of people as we all try to come to terms with what we’re seeing. She opens her mouth to speak before she’s clear of the furniture in her section of the room, so as she walks, she trips on the corner of the rug and swiftly grabs the table to regain her balance. As she stands back up, she knocks the lamp off the wooden surface and to the floor. The arc reactor powering the lamp explodes, and the girl jumps out of the way just in time to steer clear of the sparks it sprays. The rest of my team seizes this opportunity without hesitation. They jump into the room and start attacking their doppelgangers, teaming up two against one.  
  
The other girl rolls across the floor, dodging Tony and Rhodey fighting...other Tony. She stands up and strolls over to me, ignoring the scene behind her. I realize now that she looks familiar….  
  
“Oops, my bad,” she says. Her eyes narrow as she watches me. “Wait…. Do I know you, or do I just know someone with the exact same face?”  
  
My eyebrows furrow as I scrutinize her. “I feel like I know you too….”  
  
The stranger girl laughs at something. “Why was six afraid of seven?” she says offhandedly.  
  
This plays off something in my memory. “Well, certainly not because seven ate nine….” I continue sarcastically.  
  
The girl’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “No, because seven is a prime number, and those can be pretty intimidating.”  
  
The nerdy childhood joke clicks in my brain, and I realize who she is with a gasp. “Charlie?” I whisper in disbelief.  
  
“Meg?” Charlie returns, recognition all over her face. We instantly bro-hug, like silly childhood friends will do (I unintentionally shock her because I didn’t know there were electrocuting devices [probably Nat’s idea] in my gloves), and stand grinning at one another, oblivious to the chaos elsewhere.  
  
Maybe not entirely oblivious. In the tiniest segment of time after she says this, I hear shrieking and shouting on the other side of the room. It sounds like the other Natasha is freaking out about Bucky and the other Tony and Steve are screaming about Wanda. I shrug. I wasn’t a part of the events that probably caused those reactions. I know I should be concerned, but these things are at the back of my mind right now. I’m too busy catching up with Charlie at the moment.  
  
“I haven’t seen you in forever!” I exclaim, referring to the fact that Charlie moved away several years ago, back when we were still in middle school. “How’s life?”  
  
“I know, right?” she agrees. “Probably had something to do with the fact that I was kidnapped out of this universe, but life’s pretty sweet. Hey, are you still wearing that locket I gave you in elementary school?”  
  
“Yeah,” I answer. “It’s the only thing I haven’t lost, and I didn’t want to forget you.”  
  
She pulls the locket’s twin charm from beneath the neckline of her shirt. “I still wear mine too,” she says nostalgically. “I’ve missed you, Meg. Sorry, sorry, I got distracted. How are you?”  
  
“Pretty good, pretty good. I became an Avenger and everything, and I was kinda on my first mission today, which was pretty exciting.”  
  
“Wow, really? Nice! I’m an Avenger too! Obviously not the same team, but close enough. How did you get into it? I fell out of the sky onto my dad.”  
  
I give her a perplexed look but otherwise ignore the strange comment. I’ll ask later. “I went swimming with some makeup products and got some powers from radiation, and then….”  
  
Charlie raises one finger. “And that is why I don’t trust makeup. Sorry, continue.”  
  
“Uh… Spider-Man made me come to HQ, and then the dude who would later become my boyfriend started training me to fight bad guys.”  
  
“Ooooo, boyfriend?” Charlie exclaims, suddenly interested. She was never really much of a gossip back when we were kids, but I suppose people can change….  
  
“Uh, yes,” I manage, put off by her sudden intrigue.  
  
“Dump the juice.”  
  
“Um, what? Do you mean spill the tea?”  
  
“We could use a little help here, ‘Zilla!” the other Tony cries from across the room, staring at Charlie as he gets pummeled by two of my friends.  
  
“One minute, Dad!” Charlie crows, diverting my attention from her incorrect alternative meme back to her.  
  
“Dad?” I demand in disbelief, ignoring my promise to wait to ask. “Okay, you have to explain that.”  
  
“Nuh-uh, you first,” Charlie insists stubbornly, crossing her arms and staring me down. “Spill the tea, as you said.”  
  
“Fine. I am dating Steve Rogers.” I tug on my braid and undo it, pulling it into a bun as I say this in hopes of seeming nonchalant.  
  
“Steve Rogers? As in, ‘I’m an old grandpa who doesn’t understand any pop culture references’ Steve Rogers?” she exclaims.  
  
Two identical voices across the room shout “Hey, I heard that!” in the same indignant tone at Charlie’s remark.  
  
My boyfriend turns around for a second look, throwing in, “And Meg, we could really use a hand over here right about now…!”  
  
“One second, Steve!” I reply. I turn and level an angry glare at my friend. “And watch it, Charlie! He’s not like that!”  
  
“Wow, touchy,” she says, raising her hands in surrender. She grins playfully at me. “You’ll have to tell me more later.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “Now it's your turn. Dad?”  
  
“Ok, so you know how I said I was kidnapped? Well, it was a multidimensional kidnapping, so I ended up in another universe’s Afghanistan with Tony in, like, 2008, but after we escaped, I found out I couldn’t go home, so he adopted me, and here we are.”  
  
“Aw…”  
“You know, the first time I called him Dad was a joke, and I just never really stopped. Whoopsies.”  
  
I laugh. “That’s adorable.”  
  
Something weird happens to Charlie. As soon as she gives me that angry look, her body begins to cover with pale blue scales. Her facial features shift in shape, scales flipping up out of her skin, so now she looks more lizard than human. She still stands on two legs, though, as her voice in my mind rages, “I am not adorable!”  
  
Startled by this, I instinctively transform to better defend myself. I find myself disguised once again as Wanda, levitating close to the metallic ceiling, by the time I muster up the voice to say, “Did you just scream at me in my mind as a lizard person?”  
  
Charlie pauses. “Maybe, but I am not a lizard. Now what the fudge was that?”  
  
She catches me off guard with her own shouting, and the magic emitting from my hands falters. I tumble to the ground with a cry and crash-land on my butt, looking like myself again when I sit up with a yelp. “That’s...my power?”  
  
“Oh, okay. Cool beans.”  
  
One of the Tonys, I assume the one I don’t know, picks that exact moment to start dad-yelling at Charlie. “Godzilla, get your butt over here this instant!”  
  
Both of us turn to face the scene around us. The furniture is overturned, several pieces of it broken, bent, and torn. One of the floor-to-ceiling windows bears a web of sharp cracks, and another is missing a small section of the pane. Our teammates are still savagely attacking one another, chasing each other around the room in pursuit.  
  
“Idiotic bananas,” Charlie mutters in a very Stark-esque voice.  
  
“Morons,” I whisper in agreement. I raise my voice to address all of them at once. “Stop fighting, you guys! We’re not enemies!”  
  
Everyone ignores us and keeps on fighting. Thor chucks Mjolnir (his old hammer, so this isn’t the Thor I know) across the room, narrowly missing my shoulder. I pace back to grab it from the corner, where it’s dented and cracked the walls. I grip the handle and surprise myself when I can pick it up, but no one’s paying attention because Charlie is currently a full-on dragon, roaring “Ahhh, shut it!” at the population of the room. They all freeze dramatically and stare at the two of us, so I lug the hammer off the floor and throw it back across the room to Thor. He’s not paying any attention, and my boyfriend catches it instead so no one gets knocked over and concussed. He then politely hands it to Thor. Everybody stares.  
  
I guess this is my opportunity to speak. “Stop being idiots and pay attention!”  
  
Charlie transforms back into a human and hooks her thumb in my direction. “What she said.”  
  
I stand up straight, walk back to Charlie, and hold my arms out in her direction like Vanna White. “This is my best friend, and I am prepared to pummel anyone on my team who tries to fight her or anyone on her team. Got it?”  
  
Charlie scoffs. “As if they could take me. But the thought is sweet, thanks. Same goes for anyone on my team. I see you, Dad,” she says authoritatively, eyeing her adoptive father’s disdainful stares at my team.  
  
I do a two-finger “I’m watching you” gesture toward my squad. “That goes for you too, Tony.”  
  
The room is totally silent. All eighteen battling Avengers are staring awkwardly at the two of us. Charlie just shrugs and grins. “Are we good? I’m kinda hungry.”  
  
“You wanna get some pizza?” I ask, both directly to her and to the room at large. “My parents own a place a few blocks away if you want to go, and all these children can cooperate…. Not including all of you, just most.” I wink at Natasha and Steve, right next to each other in the baffled cluster of superheroes. They’ll never know if I’m actually talking about them or not. But then again, maybe I won’t either.  
  
“Duh,” Charlie replies, turning on her heel and starting toward the door. When no one follows, she shouts back at the confused heroes, “Well, come on!” The rest of us hurriedly follow the impatient girl out of the building.


	20. You Can't Start Fighting if You Haven't Eaten Any Pizza

The teams are seated at a couple of large, circular tables, steadily working through about ten pizzas. I exchange a look with Steve and the two of us excuse ourselves from the table. He catches up to me and takes my hand as we walk to the door into the kitchen. I take a breath and push it open, feeling an instant burst of warmth from the pizza ovens.  
  
My parents, both in the middle of sliding pizzas into the giant ovens, glance up from their work. When they see me, they hastily shove the food in and slam the doors, throwing their oven mitts aside and jogging over.  
  
“Meg?” my mom asks warily.  
  
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” I affirm, dropping Steve’s hand and moving forward to hug her. She seems taken aback for the tiniest fraction of a second, but she hugs me back fiercely. My dad then wraps his arms around both of us.  
  
“Meg?” another loud voice calls from someplace I can’t see. “Is that you?”  
  
“Leo?” I question.  
  
“Heck yeah,” he says, strolling around the kitchen to join the hug. He puts me in a headlock, but I instinctively fight him off, throwing him off guard and impressing him.  
  
I turn around and face my parents again as Leo circles around to stand behind them. “What brought you back?” my dad questions.  
  
“I wanted to apologize. I haven’t come to see you in forever.”  
  
“That’s partly our fault,” my mother says kindly. “We were so focused on the business that we didn’t even consider anything you already had planned for your future.”  
  
“But I didn’t talk to you about it like I should’ve,” I say sadly, my face twisting into a look of remorse. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“All is forgiven,” Dad says cheerfully. “We should tell you we’re selling this place and opening a pâtisserie in about a year. Taking your advice after all.” I grin widely at this. “What’ve you been up to? You haven’t been in the magazines at all lately.”  
  
“And your hair…” my mom adds, raising one very confused eyebrow and staring, wide-eyed, up at the top of my head.  
  
“Yeah, what happened?” my brother jokes.  
  
“Well…” I chance a glance back at Steve. My parents catch sight of him for the first time as he nods at me. “I’m kind of a superhero.”  
  
“What?” they exclaim in unison.  
  
My dad looks up at Steve again. “Qui est-il [who is he]?”  
  
Steve steps forward and stretches his hand out to shake my dad’s. “Steve Rogers,” he answers with a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”  
  
“Are you Meg’s boyfriend?” my mom asks eagerly. I roll my eyes and facepalm. No filter.  
  
He grins down at me. “Yeah.”  
  
“Finally!” she shouts, raising her fists in excitement. “Louis, I think she got a good one!”  
  
“Mom…” I whine.  
Leo raises one eyebrow, and I know, no matter how much of a pest he can be, he’s thinking of the protective brother speech right now. It’s annoying, but it also means he cares.  
  
My dad studies Steve’s face for a moment. “Captain America?” he asks.  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
He nods. “Okay. I wouldn’t trust most of those other superheroes with my daughter, but you seem alright.” He and my brother exchange looks and nod. “Speaking of which, are they out there?”  
  
I seize the opportunity to explain. “Yeah, and we’ve kind of got a situation with some alternate universe twins going on, so don’t be alarmed at the double casting.”  
  
They go to peek out the door, not bothering to hide their shock at the eighteen superheroes gobbling down almost a dozen pizzas.  
  
“Is something happening?” my mom asks, wide-eyed, as she re-enters the kitchen.  
  
“Not yet, but we think something’s coming,” Steve says.  
  
“We won’t keep you, then,” my dad concludes. “Go save the world.”  
  
“You and all of your super friends are welcome back at our house for Christmas!” my mom adds enthusiastically.  
  
“Bye, sis!” Leo shouts obnoxiously after us. “Bye, Steve!”  
  
I hug my family one last time, punching Leo in the gut for emphasis, before scurrying out of the kitchen and back to the table. We rejoin the conversation, in which Natasha and Tony are conferring with not-our-Bruce about the aliens.  
  
“Yeah, that data definitely looks like something we’ve seen before,” Bruce confirms. “Those things are nasty.”  
  
“What are they?” I ask curiously, pulling another slice of pizza out of the box on top of the haphazard stack in the middle of the table.  
  
“They call themselves the Rogues,” not-our-Clint answers. “They just really want to wage war against Earth. They’ve already tried on our Earth, but I guess they also discovered the random portals and decided to try again. Fortunately, they don’t know that we have triple the force here as we did there.”  
  
“Who’s their leader?” Tony asks.  
  
“A defector from their planet’s government by the name of Roger,” the other Thor answers.  
  
“Ha!” Charlie guffaws at the other Steve, slapping the table. “I told you that would happen if you insulted my father! Who’s the bad guy now?”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, break it up,” Charlie’s dad urges, pushing his daughter back in her seat.  
  
I start to tune out the conversation, a new idea dawning in my mind. I stare at a plant in the corner of the room, focusing all my thoughts toward it, and wish to turn it into...I don’t know, a suit of armor. It’s a stretch, but I don’t know everything about my powers, so I have to try. The terracotta pot turns silvery for a second, but it doesn’t budge otherwise. I try again, focusing harder and stretching one hand toward it, and the pot turns into a knight’s armor, exactly as I pictured it.  
  
“Guys!” I cry out. “I just turned that plant into a suit of armor!”  
  
“What?” nineteen voices say in sync.  
  
“How did you do that?” Peter asks, staring at me in awe.  
  
“I just thought it, like I can do with myself, and reached out toward it, and it happened!”  
  
“Whoa,” he breathes in amazement.  
  
I stare again at the shining knight in the corner and will it back to normal. It’s a bit harder than with my own appearance, but it works. I then focus on the slice of pizza I’m holding. This power must be useful for making weapons in battle. I concentrate on turning the pizza into a sword--no, not a good idea with so many people in such a close space. Just a dagger. I envision the dagger in my head and feel the weight in my hand increase slightly. I glance down at the tiny metallic weapon and smile.  
  
“You need a weapon, I got you,” I proclaim to the group. I turn the dagger back into pizza and bite into it, testing my new ability a few more times as the conversation continues.  
  
“So you’re the worthy queen of Asgard now, right?” Sam teases, elbowing the other Thor.  
  
“I-- No--” I begin, incapable of stringing words together.  
  
“The only one I’ve ever met who I believed had the capability to lift it was the captain, and he proved himself today as well,” Thor says, trying to use logic in his confusion. “I suppose she is meant to rule Asgard, and that’s quite convenient if they are together.”  
  
I give Steve a smile and raise one eyebrow at him. Turning back to Thor, I say, “I can’t do that. First of all, I don’t know the first thing about ruling. Secondly, it’s not even our Asgard, it’s your universe’s Asgard, and I can’t leave all these amazing people behind. I’m afraid I must politely decline. You are surely a much better king than I could be a queen.”  
  
Thor looks relieved, but the feeling is short-lived. Before he can make an objection or accept my refusal, loud crashing and shrieking noises sound from the street. I lean forward and look to the window, closely mirrored by the other Avengers.  
  
“They with you?” Charlie asks, a note of fear in her voice despite the humor. She obviously wasn’t a part of the first battle with the Rogues in her universe, probably because of her protective dad.  
  
“No,” I answer in a dead voice. “You?”  
  
“Nope. Fight?” Charlie sounds like herself again now, and I can’t help but laugh.  
  
“Um, it’s kind of our job.”  
  
“True. Let’s go.” Charlie and I both stand up from the table and walk to the glass door, looking out the window to analyze our enemies.  
  
“Kiddo, where you goin’?” Tony asks his daughter. Charlie just points at the window and turns back around.  
  
“Uh, there are aliens attacking, Mr. Stark. Should we do something?” Peter asks from the table.  
  
“Well, what do you think, Spider-Boy?” Charlie shoots, turning around, placing a hand on one hip, and raising an eyebrow at Peter.  
  
“When did you become Mr. Stark, my parental figure?” he fires back.  
  
“When he signed away his soul.” At this point, I have to turn around. Peter is giving Charlie a look that can only be explained by ‘????????????’ as Charlie stares him down. “What? It’s true.”  
  
Steve, my Steve, is glaring fiercely at Charlie. “Not the time. Let’s go!” he says, standing up as he does so.  
  
“Who put you in charge, Capsicle? Your girlfriend?”  
  
I elbow Charlie hard in the ribs, making her wince, but Steve just rolls his eyes. “Move aside, Charlie.”  
  
Charlie turns and smirks at me. “Your Steve can’t take a joke either, huh?”  
  
I push the door open and roll my eyes at her. “Well, neither can you. Now come on!”  
  
“Ouch, that hurt me in the feels,” Charlie says as she walks out the door.  
  
I turn around and see the rest of the Avengers still sitting at the pizza tables. “What are you waiting for, an invitation?” I shout, causing them all to jump up and scramble for the door.


	21. Every Great Battle Involves Someone Getting Kidnapped

We all stand outside the door, gazing around in horror at the scene before us: a street swarming with Rogues, their gray bodies dripping with slime.  
  
“We’re gonna need backup,” Tony whispers, phone already in hand. I can imagine who he’s calling: Ant-Man and the Wasp, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange, Black Panther, maybe the Guardians if they can get here…  
  
Charlie punches an alien as it shambles toward us. “You know,” she begins, trying to lift the mood, “we should really color-coordinate our different sets of Avengers. It’s confusing.”  
  
“I know of someone who could help us,” the other Thor says, ignoring her. He raises his hammer to the sky and cries out, “Brother, come hither! We require your assistance!”  
  
A rainbow column appears straight into the sky for a moment, and then Loki is there. Thor’s face lights up with an idea, and he backs away as my teammates immediately aim their weapons at his doppelganger's brother.  
  
Clint, with two arrows on his bow, says, “Welcome back, and by that, I mean give me one reason not to kill you right now.”  
  
“Wait, why?” Charlie interrupts.  
  
Clint gives her a look for half a second before turning his focus back to Loki. “He mind-controlled me into turning traitor and killing people and stuff, so I’m kinda salty.”  
  
“Ohhhhh, no he didn’t, at least not on our Earth. He was also mind-controlled there.”  
  
“Same here, but so what?” Tony demands.  
  
“Cut him some slack. He couldn’t help it. I mean, come on, his eyes were obviously blue when they should’ve been green. Get with the program,” Charlie explains, turning snarky, as usual, at the end.  
  
“And why on Earth would you know the color of his eyes so well, Charlie?” I ask, grinning evilly at her.  
  
“Because I happen to pay attention, Meg. Don’t insinuate what you don’t know.”  
  
I glare daggers at Tony. If looks could kill, he’d proooobably be dead. “You wanna talk about insinuations?”  
  
Tony shrugs and raises his eyebrows at me. I roll my eyes and facepalm at yet another of his implications.  
  
“So Loki’s on our side now?” Bruce asks.  
  
“If you won't kill me, yes,” Loki answers in his eloquent British cadence, raising his eyebrows at Clint’s ready bow, his hands lifted in surrender.  
  
“Great,” Steve says, taking charge. “Let’s split up and take these creeps down.”  
  
We divide our ranks and run in separate directions. I follow Peter down the perpendicular road, where several aliens are terrorizing the few citizens unaware enough to venture into the streets. Peter slings some webs to the left at the nearest aliens, trapping two of them in a sticky web burrito. I run to the right, remembering the shocks on my gloves, and jump onto one alien’s shoulders, digging my knuckles into its neck. Its mouth is the only facial feature completely clear and unobscured by gray skin, so I can see it scream as it collapses to the ground. Still sitting on its shoulders, I fall forward with the Rogue and scuff the knees of my leather leggings.  
  
I jump off the ground and start punching an oncoming creature. I turn my head and see Peter doing the same. I discover quickly that the best combination is punching and shocking at once, sometimes with physical transformations as a distraction (but I doubt that these monsters are intelligent enough that my choice of form matters).  
  
Spider-Man and I spend the next chunk of time battling the aliens, unaware that they’re pressing us closer together. No matter how many we knock down, more keep pouring in, and we soon find ourselves surrounded by the disgusting creatures. One of them steps into the closed circle, avoiding our attempts to incapacitate it, and handcuffs Peter and me together with an odd square of four buzzing circles. He aims his zappy staff at us as a warning against insubordination. We can’t communicate at all, because if these creatures speak English, they’ll understand, and we can’t see each other’s faces. We are utterly defenseless.  
  
The Rogue drags us into a broken-down first-floor office across the street, where we’re shoved into the back room and forced behind a desk. “Don’t let them out. We will be back with more so that when the portal opens, all the Avengers can be taken back to our planet for execution,” the ugly creature, obviously the leader of this regiment, says to another guard stationed at the door. The latter nods as the first leaves, slamming the door and cutting Peter and me off from the rest of the world.  
  
“What do we do?” Peter asks, craning his neck to try and look at me.  
  
“Think, Peter. We’ll figure something out,” I answer. “For now, try to stay calm. We can get ourselves out of here.”  
  
“Okay,” he says, his voice rising an octave.  
  
“Peter, it’s okay,” I say soothingly, taking his hand with some difficulty due to the handcuffs.  
  
“They-- they said execution! They’re going to kill us all!” he sobs. “For once I’m not craving death!”  
  
“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” I whisper, my heart breaking as he falls to pieces. I love this kid. “We’re not going to let them kill us. We’re going to get out of here and save our friends, okay? I bet some of our backup is already out there, so we’re going to be stronger than ever.”  
  
He sniffles and nods. “We need to break out of these cuffs, then.”  
  
The two of us lapse into silence for several minutes, picking our brains for anything that could help us escape our current state of peril.  
  
“Wait!” I half-shout. “Peter, are these things electric? Didn’t the dude shock them or something when he put them on us to activate them?”  
  
“Yeah…” Peter says slowly. “The leader had a shock-y staff, so that must be what he used. Can you overload the circuit?”  
  
Even though he can’t see me, I twist around and grin hugely. “I can.”  
  
I slowly, painstakingly slide off my glove and switch it into my other hand. I fold it to simulate a clenched fist and bend my wrist slowly until the electrical bits make contact with the handcuffs. The restraints fizzle and buzz, but Peter and I are only minorly shocked before the cuffs fall slack and drop off our wrists. We scramble out of our back-to-back captured position but stay low so the guard can’t see us through the small window in the door. Crouching low to the ground, I transform into Vision and cut a large hole in the wall with a laser beam from the Mind Stone so we can escape.  
  
“We did it!” Peter exclaims once we’re outside and certain that no Rogues are around. I give him a high five; he somehow initiates a hug from it. “Thank you,” he whispers against me. “I was really scared in there.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” I reply with a small smile. “Are you ready to fight some more aliens?”  
  
“Now that I know their evil plan?” he asks, stepping away from me. “Not really, but totally.”  
  
“That makes no sense, but okay. Let’s go.”


	22. Everyone Yells While They Kill Aliens, Right? Is That Normal?

We set off at a run back toward our starting point, encountering several of our teammates at the intersection. Doctor Strange, Black Panther, both Lokis, Godzilla, and (other) Iron Man are already there, blasting away creepy gray monsters.  
  
“You know, it would be a lot easier if I could just eat a few of them….” Charlie suggests as we join in the fight.  
  
“Charlie! It’s not socially acceptable to eat people! We went over this when we were, like, ten!” I shout at her as I zap another alien.  
  
“But they aren’t people! They are alien thingies!” she contends, oblivious to the suddenness of our arrival.  
  
Tony lifts his mask to take a breath and roll his eyes. “You would not believe the number of times we’ve had to have this conversation.”  
  
Charlie uses one claw to gently place a red sticker on her father’s suit. He hardly even notices. She tosses a sheet of green stickers to Peter and me, and we stick them to our chests without question. Strange, a matching green sticker on the shoulder of his cloak, opens a portal and sends several of the creatures flying through it, their screams cutting off as the opening seals closed in midair.  
  
One of the aliens jabs its weapon into my side, creating a shallow but painful cut. I swiftly engage the creature, fighting off its fists with my own. I transform into Tony and slice it in half with a laser beam, then turn back into myself and roll away behind a parked car to check my wound. I lift my jacket and shirt just enough to expose the injury, right above my left hip. The bleeding already seems to be slowing. I grab a rubber tire shaving off the road, turn it into a bandage, and use it to cover the injury. I pull my shirt down over it again and press my palm against it to stop the bleeding.  
  
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out in curiosity. It says I have…a Snapchat from Tony? Confused, I open it up and wait for the picture to pop up. When it does, I have to facepalm. Tony sent me a photo, taken from the ground, of Steve, looking heroic as he scans for more alien invaders, with the caption 'your man lookin’ goooooooood.' Will he never shut up? I take a picture of the asphalt and type out 'shut up tony--it’s true but i am trying to recover from a minor wound right now' on top of it, sending it to him and heaving myself off the street.  
  
I throw myself back into the battle, shocking and punching aliens alongside my teammates. Once we knock out all the imminent threats, Tony’s voice comes through my earpiece, saying, “Okay team, let’s regroup outside that empty Starbucks and figure out our plan.”  
  
Our group starts toward the restaurant, just over on the next road. We find the rest of the Avengers hurrying over as we reach the sidewalk. Several overturned cars create a sort of temporary barrier around us to give warning of any aliens trying to sneak up on us.  
  
As the rest of the team arrives, I pick up on the less familiar faces present. Both versions of Loki are still with us, as are our new arrivals. Even the Guardians made it, bringing Nebula and Mantis with them.  
  
Steve immediately jogs to me when he reaches the vicinity of the Starbucks. “Meg, are you okay? Tony said you got hurt,” he says, worry drawing his eyebrows together.  
  
I show him the tiny hole in my tank top through which the bandage over the scabbing wound is visible. “Spear stab. It’s not a big deal; it was pretty shallow. I’m alright now.”  
  
He hugs me close to him, and I can hear the rapid heartbeat in his chest. Is that just from the fight, or was he that worried about me?  
  
“We know their end goal,” Peter announces unexpectedly to the group as he peels off his mask.  
  
“What is it?” Vision asks quietly. “What do they want with us?”  
  
“They want to take us all back to their planet to execute us,” I whisper, turning away from Steve. He loosens his hold but still keeps one arm around me.  
  
“They kidnapped Meg and me and said they were going to get the rest of you and open a portal to their planet,” Peter clarifies.  
  
“They captured you?” Wanda exclaims.  
  
“Yeah, so don’t let them corner you.”  
  
“How did you get out?” Nebula demands.  
  
“I shorted out the electrically charged handcuffs,” I answer, raising one fist to show her the shockers across my knuckles. Several people around me nod in approval.  
  
Suddenly, a ton of aliens show up, wielding their spears angrily at us.  
  
“What’s our plan?” Tony shouts, panicking as we all step into defensive positions and start fighting. He has a red sticker. He looks to his daughter, his teammates, his new acquaintances, his unfamiliars, searching hopelessly for answers.  
  
“There are still people in the radius of the invasion,” the other Steve calls back.  
  
“Clintasha!” Charlie commands. “Go round up stragglers on Fifth Avenue!” The other Clint and Natasha jump out of the circle and dash off, but our Clint and Natasha exchange confused looks and then stare at Charlie. Charlie then looks at me. “Wait, are your Clint and Natasha not a couple?”  
  
“Uh, no,” I answer, fists flying at an alien’s face. “Clint has a wife and three kids and a farm.”  
  
“Huh, that’s sad.” Um... “Are the baby Bartons cute?” Such casual conversation for a battlefield.  
  
“I’ve never met them, so I don’t know…. Clint, can I meet your kids sometime?” I call.  
  
Clint nocks another arrow into his bow and shoots it at a Rogue, hitting it where its left eye should be. “Sure,” he answers in an exasperated tone, “as long as you don’t try to steal them like the rest of the Avengers do!”  
  
“It’s almost like you no longer have faith in the rest of us,” Charlie says.  
  
“He barely even knows you!” I exclaim.  
  
“It was a general observation!”  
  
She needs to focus. “Channel that aggression towards the aliens, not me, Charlie. Go dragon on them or something. Set them on fire!”  
  
“If you say so.” She morphs into a gigantic blue dragon again and eats an alien off the ground. “Hm, probably would’ve been better slightly toasted.”  
  
“Charlie Grey Stark, you spit that out right now!” her dad screams at her.  
  
Charlie spits out the half-chewed alien corpse and sulks. “Daaaad,” she whines, “you never let me have any fun.” Several of Charlie’s coworkers shake their heads in disbelief at her.


	23. Evil Aliens are the Absolute WORST

Soon the fight clears up enough that some of us can branch out to more of the city. I take off running down the street, past the pizza place and all the way to the next intersection. I take a hard right and hear another person’s footsteps close behind. I chance a glance back, but no one’s there….  
  
“On your left.”  
  
I look to my left, and there’s Steve.  
  
“On your right.” That would be Bucky.  
  
“On his right!” I look at the buildings on the right side of the street and catch Natasha sprinting across the rooftops.  
  
“Above you!” Sam calls out, soaring overhead. “I get to be in on the joke now! Feels good!”  
  
“Pests,” I hiss, renewing my speed in a sudden burst. They can all keep up easily. “Fine, then.”  
  
We keep racing until we reach a large cluster of aliens gathered in a park up ahead. I silently gesture for my team to slow down and hide until I’m finished. After fighting off their resistance, I shapeshift into the freaky alien commander who captured me earlier and walk out toward the troops. I can hear Sam radioing back to the others what our plan is.  
  
I can’t see. I don’t have eyeballs, so I can’t see. Well, no, I can see, but everything is very blurry and monochromatic from the dark gray skin. I guess these hideous creatures do still have eyes.  
  
I slowly make my way into the horde. The aliens turn to face me, giving me disgusted glares as I pass.  
  
“Commander 38!” shouts a deep voice. I look up at the horrific creature in front of me. “What are you doing here? You have a battalion to lead! And you’d better do it well, especially after you lost the prisoners….” The monster grins, baring his sharp teeth at me.  
  
“I was told that I needed to come get you. Our squadrons are to join up and mount a double attack on 32nd Street.”  
  
“That was never in the plan,” the creature’s voice, as if coming through a voice filter, disagrees.  
  
“Plans can change,” I say with a wry smile.  
  
“I suppose they can,” the alien agrees, stepping off his pedestal to approach me. “Just as shapeshifters can.” He clamps a cold metal bracelet around my wrist and pushes me away. “Why should I have to kill you when I can watch your friends do it?” he sneers.  
  
“Help!” I scream, my voice breaking but only sounding half my own. Nat, Steve, Sam, and Bucky all come rushing out of their hiding place, weapons poised to strike. I try frantically to transform into myself again, but it won’t work. I can’t pry the bracelet off either. Stupid alien tech! Now I’m gonna die!  
  
I turn around to see my teammates still approaching fast. I try to gesture to them that I’m not an alien, but it doesn’t work. Steve slams into me, forcing me against a tree. He raises his shield to bash me again as I cry, “Steve! Stop! It’s me, Meg!”  
  
“Why should I believe you?” he demands, gritting his teeth, his arm still raised to attack me.  
  
“Just trust me, okay? It’s this bracelet. It froze my powers so I can’t change back.”  
  
Steve stares at me, indecision evident on his face. “If this is a trick, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”  
  
“I know,” I say, tears thick in my throat, “but it isn’t. I promise. You said if I needed you, you’d be there, and I really need you in order to stay alive right now. Please help me, Steve.”  
  
He pauses, loosens his grip on me, and raises the shield higher. I lift up my arm and he swings the shield at the cuff, slicing through it and freeing me. I turn back into myself, fall forward into his arms, and smile at him, half sad and half gloating.  
  
“I told you it wasn’t a trick.” I brush my tears of fear off as the bigger problem returns to us.  
  
“Uh, guys, trouble’s headed your way!” Bucky shouts across our section of the park. He and Sam are still fighting aliens, but Natasha’s advancing on us, a dark smile on her lips. Steve sidesteps, raising his shield, and I lift my fists, ready to fight her.  
  
“Go around behind her,” I whisper to Steve.  
  
He nods and discreetly disappears, leaving me to face Natasha’s mind-controlled hatred. Once she’s close, I step forward and aim a punch at her, but she easily dodges it. I’m thrown off balance and fly forward, but Steve is there. He catches me in his arms, safe and comforting, but he still has eyes on Natasha. I can sense it.  
  
“Hold onto me, babe,” I say as I turn around. Without specification, he takes me by the elbows. Perfect. As Natasha rears for another attack, I kick out at her with both legs, landing a hard blow to her chest. She falls to the ground, and we immediately rush forward to check on her.  
  
“There’s got to be something controlling her,” Steve murmurs. “Question is, what is it?”  
  
I whip my head around and search amongst the aliens. One of them is staring in concentration at Natasha, frustration creeping onto its face as she struggles to get free of Steve’s hold. I push myself up and dash in a few long strides toward the creature, tackling it to the ground. I punch it multiple times in the face, eventually knocking it unconscious, but not before it can get in a good hit to my face and bruise my cheekbone and my jaw. I turn around and see Steve helping Natasha off the ground. Satisfied with this, I jump off the ground and start kicking, punching, and stabbing (with a newly transformed twig-spear) at the encroaching aliens.  
  
Sam, Bucky, Steve, Nat, and I battle the rest of the Rogues in the park. Sam has a pretty epic confrontation with the leader who threatened me, and he is the last to fall before we clear out. We start running again, searching for more threats.


	24. Alien Dictators in Boy Bands are Not Fun, Especially if They Don't Like You

We soon find two Hulks throwing aliens into buildings. We run past without stopping. A tiny crackle sounds in my earpiece. Clint’s voice follows it, gravely telling us that a mass of aliens is converging just a few blocks away. We pick up our speed and race toward the scene of the battle.  
  
The nasty things are swarming in from everywhere. The sky is dark with dense gray clouds, perfectly fitting the ominous mood as we rush into the fight.  
  
In the blur that follows, somehow I wind up with my back pressed against Steve’s. He grabs my hand and interlaces his fingers with mine. I smile, but that’s a mistake. I almost don’t catch the alien sprinting toward me, spear raised. I kick it away forcefully, and the spear easily flies out of its slimy hand. Instead of clattering to the ground, however, the weapon explodes upon impact with the asphalt. Yikes.  
  
“Steve, do you know how badly you’re messing with my focus right now? That alien almost killed me just now.”  
  
He drops my hand. “Seriously? I’m--”  
  
He stops mid-sentence and pulls me forward, next to him, as he holds his shield up to...shield us. As he does so, he stares at my face for one tiny second and then kisses me. It’s not much more than a quick peck on the lips, but it’s still a kiss. I hear the spear ricochet off the shield, hit the ground, and explode, but for the moment, I’m busy. I take Steve’s face in my hands and kiss him again, making sure it’s longer this time.  
  
“Save it for the wedding, guys!” Nat shouts, eyes on us while she ruthlessly beats up two Rogues at once.  
  
Steve keeps looking at me. “What happened to keeping your focus?” he teases.  
  
I shrug. “Maybe I did need to get a little distracted after all.”  
  
We continue to fight our way through waves of alien Rogues for an immensely long period of time. The enemy army is finally starting to dwindle in size when a flash of light appears, creating a pale gray portal out of the side of a building. So inconsiderate, tsk, tsk. Everyone turns and stares as a larger, less gangly Rogue appears, carrying a shield and an axe and glaring murderously at all of us.  
  
“Roger,” someone breathes from behind me.  
  
He stalks out and assesses us, dirty, exhausted, and bruised as we are. Then he smiles. “Ah, yes. All right here together, exactly where I wanted you. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect this many, but that just means more of a spectacle for my people. They do love to watch precious little ‘heroes’ like you get executed. But I assume you’re planning to fight for your lives?”  
  
“Roger, right? As in Roger and the Rogues?” Tony interrupts loudly. I watch Stephen facepalm as he continues. “Sounds like a dumb band. And we’ve already defeated how many of your stupid bandmates?”  
  
“They were weak and expendable, mortal,” he answers in his grating voice. He doesn’t get the joke. “I will get what I want.”  
  
He then charges into our midst, where thirty-four superheroes close in to attack him. Carol, Vision, and the Tonys shoot energy beams at him. Stephen, Wanda, and a Loki work their strange magic. The Thors electrocute him. One Loki duplicates himself to increase our numbers. We all do our best to weaken him, but he does not budge.  
  
Soon the straggling remains of the army reach us, meaning our attention is divided between Roger and his cronies. His axe and shield have become mangled beyond usage, but he still has mind-controlling abilities and the power-freezing tech that he gave his armies, so we’re not done yet.  
  
I combat more of the aliens, throwing several at Roger in a technique Thor refers to as “get help”. It does nothing to faze the alien, even when Peter screams “yeet”, claiming it will help.  
  
Something finally seems to dawn on him as he bats Hope away with one palm and pushes Rhodey to the ground with the other. All motion seems to halt as he draws himself up to his full height, a good couple feet taller than any of us save the Hulks, and addresses us again.  
  
“I was told earlier that two of you were captured,” he begins. “Who was it? Or did they actually escape?” No one answers. “It won’t make a difference in your deaths; I’d just like to know who foiled my idiotic guards.”  
  
I look over at Peter. He nods bravely, being oddly stoic, and the two of us step forward. Roger observes two of the youngest heroes on the team, stepping closer to observe us.  
  
“Hm…” Roger muses. He somehow seems to deduce from Peter’s fearful expression that I was the orchestrator of the plan. He knocks Peter aside with a backhand, felling him to the ground, and approaches me. He kicks me in the back, and I fall to my knees on the pavement. My fellow Avengers are paralyzed by shock. Roger then interlaces his long, razor-like claws down the center of my back, ripping outward to my sides through leather, cloth, and skin. I scream in agony, tears flooding my eyes, but Roger seems to warn the others not to approach. They watch helplessly from the sidelines as I’m torn apart. I only vaguely register my necklace breaking and clinking to the ground through the fiery sensation of pain. It’s the only other sensation that reaches me over my burning skin and screaming muscles.  
  
“Why?” I gasp, my voice weak from my scream.  
  
“You think you can just escape from me like that? No, you can’t! You won’t be able to. I’ll take over everything, be everywhere, and soon you’ll have no place left to run! Let your friends see what they’ll suffer if they don’t submit to me.” He cackles maniacally, stoops to pick up a fallen spear, which is still charged and somehow intact, and drives it into my back. I can’t even scream as it shocks me.  
  
That breaks the silence. It’s like unpausing an action film. Steve launches himself at the gray monster, not concerned about being overpowered. The others have told me about his impulsive and dramatic tendencies like this. I’m too weak and powerless to stop him.  
  
I lie on the ground, weak and unmoving, as the sounds of battle rage around me. I close my eyes and lay my head on my arm, fearing that I won’t make it back to the compound.  
  
Suddenly, I hear several gunshots, an explosion, some loud clangs, and the crackling of lightning, and then all is quiet. However, this sudden peace is short-lived, interrupted by loud, celebratory (though half-hearted) cheering from several of my teammates.  
  
Then someone is beside me. “Meg?” the voice whispers. Such a nice voice. I like this voice. It’s the only sound I can focus on over my increasingly heavy breathing. Everything else is jumbled up and blurry, if sounds can be blurry. “Meg, wake up.” My eyelids are like dead weights. I don’t want to lift them. It’s so hard. “Meg. Meg, stay with me!”  
  
Uh oh. The pretty voice seems upset. I try to recall what happened before I closed my eyes that might have upset him, but I’m dizzy, and it hurts. Everything hurts.  
  
“I know it hurts, but it’s gonna be okay. You just have to stay with me, okay?”  
  
I nod weakly, and I feel him ever-so-gently sweep me off the ground into his arms. I curl against his chest, moaning as the motion stretches the raw skin on my back and my breath catches in my throat.  
  
“Steve?” another voice asks.  
  
“Bruce, I need to get her back to the tower. She’s losing a lot of blood, and I don’t know how much longer she’ll last if we don’t act fast. Where’s Stephen?”  
  
I struggle to stay conscious, but I manage to open my eyes anyway. Everyone is picking themselves off the ground and inventorying the damage. I catch sight of Steve’s dirt-streaked face, concerned...worried...panicked...terrified. My eyes then move to Bruce, who looks upset and uncomfortable. I see Wanda in the background, her face contorted in pain as her mind is overwhelmed with the rush of anguish, both her own and not. Then Stephen walks over, his face betraying little emotion as he surveys my injuries.  
  
“Let’s get back. Now.” Strange’s face shows he means business. Steve nods, tears dripping down his face, as the doctor opens a portal and the three of us step into it.


	25. Even if You Almost Die, People Still Expect You to Party (No Matter What They Tell You)

Steve is still holding me while Strange sets up in the lab. “Steve?” I ask with difficulty, my voice shaky and quiet.  
  
“Yes?” he answers, his voice cracking the tiniest bit. He tries to smile when I open my eyes, but it doesn’t hide his pain.  
  
“Did we win?”  
  
His smile becomes slightly more genuine. “Yes, Meg, we won.”  
  
“Good.” I close my eyes for a second, summoning my strength. My smile vanishes as I contemplate my next words. “Am I going to be okay?”  
  
I open my eyes again, and Steve’s tiny pained smile is back. “I don’t know. I hope so.” At least he’s honest. That doesn’t make the news any less disheartening. My eyelids fall closed again. He must think I’m asleep, because he whispers, “Please don’t leave me, sunflower.”  
  
“Never.” My voice is barely audible, not to mention croaky.  
  
Stephen slides the glass door open and sticks his head out. “Ready.”  
  
\---  
  
I wake up lying on my stomach, the beeping of a heart monitor the only noise in the room. That reminds me where I am. I turn my head to both sides, moving as little as possible, and see Steve staring out the glass from a chair. He glances at me and catches me eyeing him. His face breaks into a huge, relieved smile at seeing me awake.  
  
“Hi, Steve,” I tease, waving at him. I must still be slightly loopy, but I feel mostly cognizant.  
  
He gets up from his seat and kneels on the floor next to my head. He’s still dirty from the battle. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Ready to get up, for one thing,” I snark. “How long has it been?”  
  
“Almost twenty-four hours,” Steve answers. “They’re all here, and all of them except me have gotten cleaned up for your recovery party.” He smirks at the idea. “I’ve been in here as much as I could. Strange was pretty annoyed.”  
  
I giggle, still suffering the last effects of the drugs. “Another party?” I ask in disbelief.  
  
“Yeah, I guess we like to celebrate around here.” He takes my hand and gives me the biggest smile he can muster at the moment. “Especially when it comes to you.”  
  
“How are you holding up?” I ask softly, seriousness taking over my demeanor.  
  
“Me?” Steve asks. “I’m fine. I was just afraid I was going to lose you.”  
  
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I whisper teasingly.  
  
He laughs and brushes a strand of hair out of my face, pausing to look out the window of the lab. The machine behind me picks up the slight increase in my heart rate. “Oh, he’s coming to check on you. I’d better get back to that chair and behave myself.”  
  
I burst out laughing at this, which causes a throbbing pain along the wounds on my back. Stephen enters as I compose myself. “Meg?” he asks, checking that I’m awake.  
  
“Yes?” I ask sweetly, smiling at him. “Is this my prison break?”  
  
He checks some things on the monitor. “Well, I suppose you could try getting up, but you’ll want some help. If it gets to be too much, you need to rest. Don’t push yourself too much. It’s going to be painful, but I promise you, it is healing. It will be a while before those wounds scar and feel better. They were very deep.” He pauses. “Are you ready?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” I joke. He rolls his eyes and disconnects me from the machines. I slowly move myself into a sitting position, wincing as I sit up straight. Steve stands up and gently takes my hand. I cautiously set my feet on the floor one at a time and stand up, trying not to let the pain in my back contort my face. Steve smiles sympathetically at me, and both of them leave the room long enough that I can put on normal clothes again. After they return, Steve and I get kicked out because apparently it’s not desirable to watch people make out in your science lab. Assuming we would be that unprofessional. Rude!  
  
Steve helps me make my way through the building, wrapping his arm ever-so-gently around my waist, barely touching me. He leads me to my room, where all the girls are waiting for me. He lets me go with a kiss on my forehead and a promise that I don’t have to stay at the party, and then he disappears.  
  
I feel sort of numb, like this experience wasn’t even real. I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out that Charlie never did show up because she never got sent to another dimension to become an Avenger and that Roger never came to attack us from some alien planet. This has all been a crazy dream. Maybe even the mission to NASA, my becoming an Avenger, my relationship with Steve…  
  
Now I’m upset. I block the negative thoughts and walk into my room, where Nat, Pepper, Charlie, Maria, Wanda, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis, Hope, and Carol are waiting for me. They smile and wave as I shut the door and walk toward the bed, which they are all perched on. I don’t know why they’re here. I flop down on an unoccupied corner, ignoring the pain in my back as I do so. Most of them excuse themselves after saying hello and checking in, but Charlie stays put. She fills me in on what I missed and checks that I’m okay with going to the party, then she waits as I pick out an outfit, this one consisting of a short black strapless dress, almost like a homecoming dress, and sunny yellow flats. She helps me with my hair, and I get dressed slowly, trying not to hurt myself.  
  
“So,” Charlie begins conversationally as I slide my shoes on. “Have you and Steve, you know, done…?”  
  
“Done what?” I reply.  
  
She hesitates and flashes me a sly grin. “...each other.”  
  
I inhale sharply and glare at her. “Charlie, no!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry! Just thought I would ask, since I don’t have all the details!”  
  
“You can get the details someway else!” Even in my annoyance, I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning. “You really do sound like your father. Speaking of which, are they still here?”  
  
“No, everybody else left this morning. I have an interdimensional phone so I can keep in contact with them and let them know when I decide to come back.”  
  
“So that means you’re staying for a while? I’ve got you back?  
  
As Charlie nods to answer my question, there’s a knock on my door, and I bounce over (that hurts a bit) to it. I open it to Steve’s smiling face, and I can’t help but smile back. How could this not be real?  
  
“Wow,” he says, laying eyes on my outfit. “Once again, you look dazzling.”  
  
I laugh. “Steve,” I say, unsure of what else I could say. Charlie quietly excuses herself (with a very conspicuous wink) and heads for the party.  
  
“I should say, Meg-nificent,” he chuckles, winding his arm around my waist again. I flinch at his delicate touch, and he freezes. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you feel up to this?”  
  
I shut my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, and open them to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be like that for a while, so I gotta get used to it. I’ll be fine. Now let’s party!”  
  
Even though I’m tired and weak, I feel excited for the party. Steve and I joke the whole way, and we’re greeted by a chorus of jubilant cheers when we get there. Peter springs up to give me a huge hug around the neck, bringing tears to my eyes.  
  
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers. “I was scared.”  
  
“Aw, Peter,” I reply. “I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”  
  
He lets go of me and Steve takes my hand as the party starts back up. As I join the throng of my friends and allies, they start giving each other shifty looks and making weird gestures and signals. All of a sudden, Charlie breaks away from the group and starts… conducting, and the rest start singing.  
  
“Shalalalala, don’t be scared, you better be prepared, go on and kiss the girl,” they sing. It surprises me how good they sound. Steve is laughing and blushing, but then he catches my eye. He must see something in my expression that alleviates his embarrassment, or at least ignites his passion for doing the unexpected.  
  
“Come on, Rogers!” someone shouts.  
  
Just like that, we’re kissing. His fingers play with my hair as my arms go up around his neck, drawing him closer to me. I hear someone snickering in the background, but I elect to ignore it. We stay locked in the kiss a moment longer, and everyone applauds when we’re done. Steve shoots Bucky and Sam an unamused look across the room.  
  
“Alright, that’s over,” Tony says, “so no more for the night, right?”


	26. Little Kids Think I'm Cool, Even if Nobody Else Does (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this were a Marvel film, this would be the post-credits scene. It's an innocent one, unlike the one in, say, Ant-Man and the Wasp. XD

The sun is warm on my face as we set up our beach chairs on the sand. I lean back and relax, absorbing the sunlight and the tranquility of the moment.  
  
Natasha, to my right, turns away from Tony and Clint, who have turned a group conversation into one only they can understand. She raises one eyebrow at me and smiles. “So have you given any more thought to my offer?”  
  
I take the sunglasses off my face and stare at her. “Natasha, I don’t know….”  
  
Steve, on my other side, sits up and looks at Natasha. “Nat, are you ever going to leave her alone about this?” he laughs.  
  
Nat shrugs. “I mean, SHIELD needs some more agents to kickstart the rebuilding, and Meg basically has endless built-in covers at her disposal, so….”  
  
“Natasha, I need more time to decide.” I smile at her in hopes of not hurting her feelings.  
  
Peter and Charlie run up the beach, their hair dripping wet. “The water feels awesome,” Charlie states, shaking her wet hair all over the three of us.  
  
“You should come out there,” Peter adds. “I think we’re gonna do a chicken fight or something.”  
  
I snort. “Okay, I’m coming,” I say. I stand up from the chair, and the rest of the team is close behind. I reach the water’s edge and stop beside Charlie.  
  
To our left, two little girls and a little boy are building a sandcastle. “The Avengers need to defend the fortress!” one of the girls cries. They pick up several action figures and start flying them around the mound of sand.  
  
“Did you see what happened in New York with the Avengers?” the boy asks the girls.  
  
“Yeah,” one answers.  
  
“The Avengers fought off a gazillion aliens!” the other exclaims.  
  
“They’re so cool,” the first girl sighs.  
  
“Did you watch Godzilla turn into a dragon?” the boy says excitedly. I nudge Charlie’s arm with my elbow.  
  
“That was awesome,” the second girl agrees. “She ate the aliens, yuck. But it was funny, and cool. And Mirage can turn into anybody she wants to! She can even become invisible!”  
  
“She shocked those aliens and beat them up so bad,” the first girl assesses. “Plus she has purple hair.” Now it’s Charlie’s turn to playfully elbow me.  
  
The three of them turn our way, and their eyes bug out. I wave at them as the others join us, and the kids jump off the sand and sprint in our direction.  
  
“Are you the Avengers?” the little boy asks eagerly.  
  
“Yeah, kid,” Tony answers. “What’s your name?”  
  
“I’m Blake, and this is Bree and Addison,” he answers.  
  
“Did you guys save the world?” one of the girls asks shyly.  
  
Steve smiles at her. “Yeah, we did.”  
  
The other girl grins widely at us. “Can you tell us about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 is finished! I hope you guys enjoyed it. :) Feel free to like or comment; I'd love to hear your thoughts. Part 2 will be coming soon, but I don't know how soon, because this part was fully drafted and edited before I started posting it, unlike parts 2 and 3, which still have some large plot holes. Thanks again for reading!


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